


Paid friend: DON'T BE WEIRD

by unnieunnie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bad cat puns, Baekhyun is a menace, Caretaker Minseok, Lost kitten Jongdae, M/M, Obliviousness, Pining, Slow Burn, So many jobs and bus routes, So much softness omg, Superior friend group, the author loves everyone in this fic so much and it probably shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22871257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unnieunnie/pseuds/unnieunnie
Summary: Despite having all the jobs in the world, Minseok is still broke enough that an ad for a "paid friend" seems a little less bonkers than usual. It's even kind of fun, once he signed all the paperwork, to get paid to hang out with someone both as rich and as fun as Jongdae.If only he weren't so cute.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 49
Kudos: 373
Collections: EXO Big Bang Writing Event





	Paid friend: DON'T BE WEIRD

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlitheBoa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlitheBoa/gifts).



“FRIEND WANTED,” the ad read. “Send me the reasons why you’re cool to hang out with. 150,000₩ per hour. DON’T BE WEIRD.”

Among the ads seeking part-time retail help, babysitters, barely-concealed listings for sex work, and creative jobs “for exposure,” this one definitely stood out.

It paid a hell of a lot better than babysitting, too. Minseok had no confidence that he was cool to hang out with, but the restaurant that paid most of his rent had shut down, and if his budget got any tighter, it’d choke him. He typed up an email with some of the things he would’ve enjoyed doing if he didn’t work all the time, listed his degree, and ticked off his 5 favorite books, movies, and pop songs. He _maybe_ got a _little_ voluble on the subject of TVXQ! (“the exclamation point is part of the name, you can’t just leave it out”), but whatever. Maybe this mysterious lonely person liked them too.

He checked the email over carefully to ensure it had no grammatical or typographical errors and hit “send.”

“A PAID FRIEND?” Baekhyun screeched over his pizza. “Min, you know that’s some yucky old dude trolling for sex.”

Minseok huffed and stabbed his salad.

“I don’t think so. It said 'don’t be weird’ in the ad.”

“Can you imagine how many applications they’ll get, though?” Jongin said, one cheek distended by fried chicken. “That much money just to pretend to be someone’s friend!”

All of whom probably had thrilling hobbies and ideas for how to spend time that were much more interesting than “catch up on sleep” or “watch/play football.” Minseok had no illusions. It was just nice to think about it, amid the slog of a job hunt.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I figure it’s probably a scam, and even if not, I have no chance. I just thought it was funny.”

“Don’t be weird. The idea itself is weird,” Baekhyun scoffed.

“Yeah.”

“Aw, don’t be glum, hyung. You’ll find a new job soon. Noona asked if you could stop by at ten-thirty tomorrow, instead of eleven, is that okay?”

“Of course.”

Babysitting Jongin’s niece and nephew didn’t pay the best, because he could hardly charge the going rate for someone who was practically family, but at least the work was enjoyable.

When he climbed onto the bus the following day, only slightly covered in paint from his adventure with Rahee and Raeon, Minseok discovered an email from an unfamiliar address.

“Hey,

Thanks for letting me know about TVXQ! (do I need a second ! there as ending punctuation?) Correct branding is important.

I appreciated that your entire email was wholly readable, as if it was written by a grown-ass human being, and that you didn’t make it weird. If you’re still interested in the job, can we meet?

Regards,

Friendless”

So that was a surprise. Minseok grinned over the punctuation thing. Cute. What would be the harm in meeting up with this person? He gave some times he was free during the week around his job shelving at the library, his job teaching fitness at the retirement center, and his job slinging coffees in Kibum’s toast truck and suggested a chain of coffee shops that were ubiquitous around town. He signed it with his name.

By the time he was out of the shower and fingerpaint-free, he had a response.

“Minseok-ssi –

Sounds great! I can make myself available on Wednesday afternoon, if you don’t mind coming to Insadong. Two-thirty? I’m not always great with time, so please be patient if I’m late. I’ll wear a green jacket and yellow shirt – just wave when you see me.

Looking forward to it,

Friendless”

It was a little weird that he still didn’t know this person’s name or sex or really anything about them. Other than their willingness to wear a garish color combination in public and that they had a propensity toward tardiness.

“Well, I guess since they’re not expecting you to, like, have a rose sitting on the table, you’re not actually living in someone’s weird movie fantasy,” Baekhyun said. “What are you going to wear?”

Baek totally disapproved of his planned outfit. So Wednesday afternoon found Minseok sitting in front of a halfway-decent double espresso in a black turtleneck with his hair pushed up off his forehead a little and wearing the thick silver hoop he liked in his ear.

Friendless was, in fact, late. Minseok saw two green jackets, but neither with a yellow shirt. He saw one yellow shirt, but with a white sweater over it (how unfortunate that anyone would choose to dress like a boiled egg).

At two minutes to three, a man close to Minseok’s size clattered through the entrance. The bells on the door made so much noise that every eye turned to him, a chestnut head swiveling as he scanned every table. Wearing a deep green suit with a yellow turtleneck almost vivid enough to be a highlighter.

Minseok waved.

The man grinned so wide and so brightly that for a second, Minseok found his mind without a single thought in it. The guy didn’t so much walk to the table as dance over to it – only a lifetime of diligent politeness made Minseok rise from his chair and bow instead of continuing to sit there stunned.

“Kim Minseok?” the man said, his voice rich and warm.

Minseok nodded.

“Wow, thanks so much for your patience. I’m really sorry to be so late. Do you need a refill? What are you having?”

The force of the man’s charisma pulled a faint “double espresso” out of Minseok, and then the man danced away toward the counter. Minseok sat down to catch his breath. One didn’t meet a force of nature every day, much less one dressed like an avocado with a voice as warm as ginger tea and a smile that demanded it be returned.

A cup plunked down in front of him. His hypothetical new friend/employer dropped into the chair across from him.

“Isn’t that stuff bitter as hell?” the man asked. “And how do you stand that much caffeine without running around in circles?”

“Espresso actually has less caffeine than regular coffee,” Minseok’s mouth said, much to his brain’s dismay. “It spends less time in contact with the water and generally uses a darker roast, which both lower the caffeine content.”

“Huh!” Friendless said. “Neat.”

Then he blinked, shook his head, and grinned again.

“I’m sorry, I’m bad about skipping over preliminaries. Hello, and thanks for agreeing to meet me.”

He held one hand across the table: fine-boned and well-manicured but surprisingly warm when Minseok grasped it.

“Wow, I apologize again for keeping you. You’re a student, right? I hope I’m not keeping you from class.”

Minseok laughed, and the man’s smile briefly dropped off his face.

“No, I graduated five years ago. It’s fine, I wouldn’t have offered up times that didn’t fit around my work schedule.”

Friendless’s head tilted to the side, along with a sharp glance.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

This time, Friendless’s smile spread across his face slowly, which made it more wicked by easily a factor of three. Minseok hoped that he kept his expression impassive, but he had no confidence in it.

“Oh gosh,” Friendless said. “Hyung.”

Wasn’t he a conundrum? Minseok tried to imagine how it was even possible that such a person, handsome and charismatic, would be so desperate as to advertise for paid friendship on a message board.

“So. What do you expect from this, uh, friend thing?” he asked.

All of Friendless’s easy confidence transformed into wriggling: the smile disappeared, he pushed his hand through his hair and sagged in the chair, scowling at the table while he picked at the sleeve of his coffee cup with one fingernail. He blew out a long breath.

“Your email was so nice, and so normal, and I’m afraid this is where I have to get weird, hyung.”

Well, Baekhyun was certainly going to have a field day with this. Minseok curled the strap of his messenger bag over his hand under the table so that, if need be, he could get up and run with no hesitation.

Friendless dug a business card out of his breast pocket and slid it across the table.

“This is my lawyer’s office? If you still think you might be interested in doing this thing, I have to have you sign a non-disclosure agreement first?”

Minseok stared.

“A what?”

Friendless hunched even lower in his chair. He looked so small and so dejected that Minseok couldn’t find it in himself to be offended.

“I know. It sounds so awful. But Minseok-hyung – “

He looked up, eyes wide, clasped his hands together.

“Will you please think about it? You seem so calm, and you look like a nice person, and I could really use – “

He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry. I’m making this stupid, weird thing even stupider and weirder. I would really like it if you’d be willing to sign the NDA and give this thing a shot, but I understand if you don’t want to. I’ll leave you to think about it. Thanks again for meeting with me, hyung, I enjoyed it.”

He pulled an envelope out of his pocket, set it on the table, and rushed out of the coffeeshop. Minseok watched him step into a taxi and be whisked away.

Minseok took a moment to catch his breath. He stared at the lawyer’s business card. Eventually he looked into the envelope, which had 300,000₩ in it. _Then_ he thunked his head down on the table.

By the time he had texted Baekhyun that he was still alive, ignored the ensuing 28 texts demanding details, and gotten to Chanyeol’s apartment, Minseok thought his curiosity was probably going to win the battle over what to do. He could think of numerous reasons why an NDA might be necessary: Friendless could be a celebrity, an idol trainee, maybe; he might be a chaebol. Minseok thought people in witness protection were usually left to fend for themselves on the personal relationship front, but he didn’t know that for sure, _and_ the thought was a little exciting, as long as (1) Friendless wasn’t some ex-criminal and (b) he himself wouldn’t be put into any danger.

And anyway, signing an NDA just meant he couldn’t talk about anything without being sued for the entire 500₩ he had to his name; it didn’t mean he’d be stuck hanging out with the guy if his reasons for secrecy were creepy.

“Hyung!” Chanyeol cried when he opened the door. “Thank goodness you’re here, Hunnie is clingy and I need to get cooking.”

Minseok grinned into Yeollie’s hug. His work schedule at the restaurant had meant that he hadn’t come to Yeol’s Wednesday-night dinners in months. There was one thing to be grateful for. His friends were a vast improvement over demanding strangers. And frankly, Chanyeol’s cooking was better, which was probably why the restaurant closed in the first place.

“What’s wrong, Sehun?” Minseok asked when he sat down and was immediately covered in bony maknae.

Sehun grunted. Minseok petted his hair and scratched the back of his neck.

“Come on, now.”

“Should’ve been like you, hyung,” Sehun finally grumbled to his shoulder.

“In what way?”

“Should’ve told my parents to shove it and never taken this stupid job, I’m going to be stuck working at a desk forever.”

“Aw, Hunnie, bad day?”

“He’s up for a promotion,” Chanyeol called out over his shoulder.

Sehun groaned.

“Sehun! That’s supposed to be good news!” Minseok said.

Sehun flopped over so he lay across Minseok’s lap and groaned again.

“It’s a trap,” Sehun groused. “You always said that, hyung. First I get promoted to junior account assistant, then I can afford slightly nicer suits. Then I get promoted to account assistant, and I get an expense account and start to travel. Then I get promoted to account manager, and I can afford my own apartment. Maybe I start getting to work on luxury brands, and then I’ll get free samples and have to go to red carpets and things and meet movie stars and, like, fly to Paris. And the next thing you know I’ll be sixty years old, all hunched over and wrinkly, ready to retire with nothing to show for my life except a pile of money and a fancy lifestyle.”

By the end of that speech, Chanyeol was huddled on his own kitchen floor, howling, and Minseok’s eyes were starting to water.

“Most people call that success!”

“Yeah, well, you and Chanyeol are the ones always saying that kind of life is soulless, and I don’t want to be the shallow one. Baekhyun’s supposed to be the shallow one!”

Chanyeol wiped his face on his sleeve and came over to put his hands on Sehun’s face, kiss his forehead.

“We just say that because we’re jealous,” he said. “I can’t fit into a standard-sized desk, and hyung looks like a kindergartner. So we’re counting on you to be the responsible one so you can take care of us in our old age.”

“Okay, but when the time comes, you’d better speak to me with honorifics,” Sehun said.

“Sure we will, Hunnie-ah,” Minseok said, and pinched his cheek.

The consensus over dinner was that Friendless was “some kind of loser” (Sehun) who probably had a tragic life story (Jongin) and just needed the power of love to turn his life around (Chanyeol).

“The ad was for a friend-friend, not a boyfriend, Chanyeol.”

“Platonic love is a thing! Do you think I don’t love you? Hyung, you know that I love you, right?”

Chanyeol’s demands that they all declare their (platonic) love and dedication to one another made for an effective change in topic, anyway.

“Will you sign the thing?” Jongin asked while he dried the dishes and Minseok washed.

“I think I will.”

“Good.”

Later that night, on the phone, Baekhyun was suspicious of Friendless’s motives, but -

“God, I’m going to die of curiosity even if you do go through with this! Like, there’s no way I wouldn’t, what the hell? But then you’ll know and you won’t even be able to tell me! This is a terrible idea, hyung. I mean, you have to do it, but it’s terrible.”

Minseok laughed.

He called the lawyer on Friday morning and by Friday afternoon had an appointment to sign the NDA on Monday. Convenient, as the toast truck was parked not far away from the law firm that week. Minseok only had to worry about whether anyone would mind that he smelled like bread when he arrived.

No one wrinkled their noses at him, anyway, nor appeared to care that he was casually dressed and as nervous as a rabbit. The lawyer even walked him through the non-disclosure agreement clause by clause, explaining each one in plain language. He understood the legalese perfectly well, but he took comfort in the effort she expended for his understanding.

“Wonderful, he’ll be so pleased,” the lawyer said when Minseok was done signing and stamping the form in triplicate.

She had him give her his bank account information, handed him a small card along with his copy of the agreement.

“You can text that number to reach him.”

More mysteries.

Minseok had an hour before his Sit & Stretch class at the retirement center, and the bus ride was only 30 minutes. He splurged on an actual sandwich for lunch instead of just convenience-store kimbap, now that he was gainfully employed as someone’s friend, and found a bench in the shade before he sent his text. After 6 or 7 tries, he went with,

“Hi, it’s Kim Minseok. I signed the NDA this morning, so let me know if you’d like to meet again.”

He wasn’t even 2 bites in when his phone buzzed.

“Hyung! Awesome! This calls for a celebratory dinner. Do you like sushi?”

Minseok had to smile that this was accompanied by several grinning emojis. When he walked into the retirement center, he had settled dinner plans, along with an all-caps promise that his mysterious new friend wouldn’t be late.

Sit & Stretch was followed by yoga and then by a shift at the library, leaving Minseok no time to go home and change before dinner. But it wasn’t a _date_. He wouldn’t change clothes before meeting Baek or Sehun for dinner. And if showing up a little rumpled in jeans and a button-down was a deal-breaker, even a fake friendship wasn’t going to work, anyhow.

Minseok’s stubbornness quailed a bit when he got off the bus and he saw the austere modernity of the restaurant. It fell apart completely when he stopped in front of the host stand and had no idea what to say other than his own name.

“Oh yes,” the hostess responded, though. “Follow me.”

“Hyung!” Friendless cried out as Minseok stepped through the doorway of the private room.

Fancy restaurant aside, Minseok was glad he hadn’t dressed up, if Friendless was going to be in a hoodie so large and so ragged that it could’ve belonged to Chanyeol. His hand was just as warm as it had been the first time Minseok shook it.

“Sit, sit,” Friendless said. “Soju okay?”

At Minseok’s nod, he poured two cups; they clinked a toast and drank.

“So. First off, thanks so much for being willing to give this a shot, hyung. Also, and I probably should’ve started with this, my name’s Jongdae.”

Then he laughed, a loud, brash giggle that had Minseok grinning.

“Hello, Jongdae.”

“Hello, Minseok-hyung.”

A waiter rescued them from any ensuing awkwardness. Jongdae either had an appetite worthy of 3 people or was showing off – regardless, Minseok didn’t protest the excessive order. He wanted to see what all of this was about.

“So where are you coming from?” Jongdae asked when the waiter left.

That led to the foreseeable cascade of questions, and thus to,

“Why so many jobs, hyung? That’s got to be on purpose, right? You’re obviously no dummy, if you double-majored in music and math _and_ had a minor in kinesiology. I mean. How are you not still in school with all that?”

Here was another hand-on-bag-strap situation.

“I don’t remember talking about my studies,” he said.

Jongdae cringed. He did that thing again where he folded himself inward and stared at the table.

“Ah, god, I’m sorry. I, uh. I had to run a background check on you, hyung. Don’t get me wrong, I could tell right away that you’re a totally normal person! I just. For safety, you know. You’re probably weirded out now, right? That’s a really weird thing for me to do? Are you mad?”

Dammit. Minseok wanted to be mad. Except he always was a sucker for anybody who looked like a lost baby animal, be they a Great Dane (Chanyeol), a teddy bear (Jongin), or an Afghan hound (Sehun, who thankfully got rid of that dreadful long hair as soon as he started interviewing for big-boy jobs). He was therefore powerless to be offended by the kitten in front of him.

“It would help if you’d tell me why that was necessary when you could’ve just asked,” he said.

Jongdae nodded miserably. He also took the hint when Minseok tapped his soju cup.

“I had some really bad experiences,” he said finally. “People I thought I could trust who ended up taking advantage of me. In like, a big way. So it’s kind of – hard for me to trust people? And also I’m so, so busy all the time that even people who claim to actually like me get pissed off because I’m never around, and when I am around, I’m always late, even though I don’t mean to, it’s just that I have so much going on, and. Yeah. So I had to make sure that you weren’t secretly like a – um.”

Dang, secretly a what? Baekhyun was right, he was too curious to let go now. But without being a jerk about it, the guy was obviously scared of his own shadow.

“A ninja?” he supplied.

Jongdae grinned.

“Right! Or a mafia hitman or something.”

“Who would ever believe I was a mafia hitman? I get carded every time I try to buy liquor.”

“See, hyung, that’s why you’d be perfect for it. Hence the background check.”

“Got it,” Minseok said.

Though he didn’t. But at least Jongdae wasn’t cringing anymore.

He didn’t quite make it to a full-on cringe when the food arrived, though it was a pretty profound grimace.

“I really ran away with myself.”

Minseok popped a nice-looking piece of hamachi in his mouth by way of comfort.

“I haven’t had sushi in ages, this is awesome,” he said.

It was funny, as they talked, how Jongdae didn’t seem to know anything about anything. Maybe he _was_ in witness protection, except from another country. Or another planet.

“Nah, I don’t follow sports. I was too nerdy as a kid, and now I’m too busy.”

“What in the world keeps so busy that you don’t even know who’s in the World Cup?”

And there was the withdrawing again, the lowered eyes.

“I’m in tech?” Jongdae said.

Well, that explained the paycheck.

“Ah. One of those crunchy types who spends days at a time hunched over a keyboard, cursing and eating nothing but cup noodles and Marine Boy?”

Jongdae grinned.

“Something like that. You don’t seem that way, though.”

“Oh no, not me. But my best friend is that kind of gamer. I have a standing rule with him that if forty-eight hours go by without his answering my texts, I’m allowed to break into his apartment and toss him bodily into the shower.”

“My boss is kind of like that with me,” Jongdae said. “It’s the only reason I know about this place, from him dragging me out here by my hood when I’d been at the office too long.”

“Please thank him for me, this is delicious.”

What a puzzle he was. Minseok couldn’t imagine why that comment would make Jongdae’s cheeks go pink.

“Are you a gamer?” Jongdae mumbled to the sushi spread between them.

“Oh no, I can’t stand to sit still for that long, unless I’m in bed with a book or a movie,” Minseok said. “The only game I really like is so dorky I don’t even want to tell you about it.”

“But hyung! You can’t say that to me and then not tell me! I’ll have a stroke from curiosity, and then you’ll have to job-hunt all over again.”

Ouch, right in his weak spot.

“Cat Farm,” he said.

Instead of the derision Minseok was used to from Baekhyun and Chanyeol at the mention of “that game for moms at the park with their toddlers,” Jongdae’s eyes went wide.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I like that I can just dip in and out of it, and there’s no stress. I have enough stress. And I’m on the bus so much, that it’s nice to sign in and play for a couple of minutes until my next stop.”

“You don’t think it’s too full of bad puns?”

Minseok set his cup down. He had signed the NDA, given over his bank account information, and had 5 cups of soju so far.

Reckoning time.

“There is no such thing as a bad pun, Jongdae.”

Jongdae really did have a nice laugh. Minseok figured that his position as Paid Friend meant he should try to hear it more often.

“I don’t think I agree with you, but I appreciate your firm stance,” Jongdae said, filling Minseok’s cup again. “So which cat is your favorite?”

Here was a topic Minseok was happy to go on about even when he wasn’t slightly tipsy. Even better, instead of listening with half an ear or rolling his eyes, Jongdae actually had his own opinions about the virtues of Catsy Cline, with her little ukulele toy, versus David Meowie and the lightning-shaped mark over his eye. Or Catpurnicus, who had a star on his flank and only showed up at night when the stars were out.

“I really liked all the pirate ones, and the hats and stuff that you could collect for them.”

“Oh yeah, Catmiral vonderPurr and that big red coat that you could get if you fed him so much that he fell asleep on the steps,” Jongdae said.

“Right! I think I liked Pegleg Pete the best, though.”

“What, the scrawny one?”

Minseok shrugged.

“Yeah. I liked how he was so sad-looking when he first showed up at the farm, but if you fed him enough and kept the other cats busy so they didn’t bother him, after a while he got fatter and perkier and hopped around on his little wooden leg. It’s been so long since there was an update, though, I’ve kind of run out of things to do. I still sign in a lot, just to watch all the cats wandering around.”

Jongdae gazed at him for a minute.

“You’re a softie,” he said.

“That’s what they tell me,” Minseok said. “And I mean, I teach fitness at a retirement home, it’s not like I’m unaware.”

Minseok watched Jongdae fiddle with his chopsticks and his sauce dishes.

“Look, I know this is weird, right? Me paying you to hang out with me. You seem super nice, and you have your own friends, they must think you’re crazy for doing this. It’s just. I get tired of doing stuff by myself, you know? And this way, you know what the boundaries are, and I know you won’t have any – expectations – other than us hanging out. It’s not too weird, is it? Am I being too strange, here?”

Well, here was the sad kitten back again. This guy needed a hug, or maybe a hundred of them.

“Kind of seems like the perfect job to me,” Minseok said. “You also seem super nice, and I’ve eaten so much sushi that my waistband is digging into me, and anybody as busy as you sound like you are is going to be understanding about my terrible schedule. Also, it helps pay my rent, and I definitely like not being homeless.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jongdae said eventually.

“Would it help if I promise to tell you if it gets weird later?”

Jongdae nodded.

“Done.”

After his dinner, paid for by Jongdae, at Jongdae’s insistence, Minseok took a cab home (paid for by Jongdae), and later checked his bank account to find that it had been increased by 25% more than the 3.5-hour fee anticipated.

He was just drunk enough to complain about it.

“Did you give me a tip,” he texted.

“That’s just in case you end up having to buy bigger pants on my account.”

This guy was a little obnoxious.

Minseok decided he liked him.

Being a paid friend wasn’t too weird – over the next several weeks, Jongdae texted him numerous times, whined a bit when Minseok wasn’t available and otherwise always had an idea of what to do ready, as if he were working off a list. They went to a movie and spent a very enjoyable couple of hours after it in a dingy little bar yelling at each other about which super heroes were superior (Jongdae was wrong on all counts).

They went to a go-kart track, and Minseok spent a less-enjoyable couple of hours after that being derided for his aversion to speed. Though he did make the happy discovery that his new boss/friend was susceptible to pouting, so at least he got apology ice cream.

They met for a couple of dinners, a few rounds of drinks, and one Saturday brunch that lasted until the wee hours of Sunday morning, just because they never ran out of things to talk about. In addition to his paycheck, Minseok also got free taxi rides home and all the leftovers. It was starting to make him feel like maybe he wasn’t living _quite_ so close to the edge of desperation.

Pretty nice.

“Are you having fun?” Chanyeol asked on a Wednesday night after a couple of weeks.

“I am,” Minseok said. “I always think it’s going to be weird to get paid for not doing anything more than talking about the Bluewings until I run out of air. And then I get paid, and I get to be the one who brings the beer to dinner for once, and it makes me feel better.”

He and Chanyeol clinked bottles.

“It’s making me bonkers, I hate that you’re doing stuff you can’t tell me about, hyung, I’m _suffering_ ,” Baekhyun said while he stomped his feet.

Minseok ruffled his hair.

“He’s very nice and very lonely and almost as big a nerd as you are, Baekkie,” Minseok said. “He probably wishes you’d answered the ad instead of me.”

“Nah, you’re a way better friend than I am,” Baekhyun said.

That, of course, called for hugging, and Chanyeol could never pass up an opportunity for everyone to get very earnest, so dinner was a little late owing to a round of everyone talking about what they appreciated the most about everyone else.

“How was dinner?” Jongdae texted, just when Sehun dropped Minseok off at home.

“I swear that every week, Chanyeol contrives to dirty more dishes for me to wash,” he replied.

He thought about folding Jongdae into their easy group: how he’d try to be shy, but Jongin was too gentle, Chanyeol too welcoming, and Baekhyun too funny to allow that to stand. It was how the three of them had drawn himself and Sehun in, after all.

Maybe eventually.

“Are you free Friday afternoon? Want to do something super dorky?” Jongdae wrote.

Minseok grinned at his phone.

“You know I’m always up for dorky.”

Minseok took the bus to the address in the text thread on Friday to a funky neighborhood full of cute boutique stores and tourists. The exact address was a cute little restaurant with Jongdae wriggling at a table by the side wall. He waved and smiled when Minseok stepped through the door. Minseok wondered for about the 400th time why anybody so adorable would have to resort to renting a friend off the internet.

“Hyung! This place is supposed to have _the_ best seafood bibimbap in town.”

“Awesome,” Minseok said. “You have to eat my squid though, I can’t stand it if it’s cooked.”

Jongdae’s eyes went wide, and his hands flapped around.

“Oh no, we can go somewhere else, hyung, we don’t have to – “

It was like watching Jongin when an animal was endangered in a movie, or Baekhyun when he realized that his sarcasm cut too deep. Minseok knew, in that moment, that as nice as the paycheck was (and not like he was going to suggest that it stop), he genuinely wanted to be Jongdae’s friend. Jongdae’s distress was so sweet.

“No way,” Minseok said. “Am I a dummy, to turn down the best seafood bibimbap in town? And on your card, no less? _Some_ people would be happy to have an extra serving of squid.”

Cute, the way Jongdae’s lips thinned and his nostrils flared. Cute in a way that didn’t bear thinking about, considering everything. Like those “boundaries” and “expectations” Jongdae had talked about.

“I know this is all my idea, but I don’t want you to just say yes to stuff because I’m paying for it, Minseok-hyung.”

Curled in and miserable again. One of these moments, Minseok was going to give in and hug him. He so obviously needed it.

“All I said is that I’m putting my squid in your bowl, Jongdae. If I were unhappy, you would know. Didn’t I promise to tell you if things got weird?”

“You did, but – “

“But nothing,” Minseok said. “We haven’t known each other for a long time. And I haven’t forgotten that you said people have been crappy to you. You have to take it on faith until you can trust that I mean it when I say that I keep my promises.”

Minseok was so curious about what happened to Jongdae to make it so difficult for him to believe that anyone would speak to him plainly and honestly.

But they ordered their food, and by the time it arrived, Minseok had been able to chat about inane topics for long enough that Jongdae’s shoulders no longer hovered in the upper atmosphere. And once the food was in front of them, Minseok placed the slices of squid in Jongdae’s bowl one at a time, slowly, mugging seriousness, until Jongdae laughed.

Minseok received in return several shrimp and some nice bites of fish, so he was content. It was, as advertised, delicious. It wasn’t even outrageously expensive. Minseok made a mental note to bring Chanyeol here, mostly because Channie was a genius at recreating dishes, so if they ate here a couple of times, then they’d all get it for 0% of the cost at home.

“You’re good to me, hyung,” Jongdae said as they walked out.

“I take pride in my work.”

Jongdae made a face, and Minseok elbowed him.

Their dorky outing turned out to be making snow globes. Even to Minseok, who had a terrible habit of wanting every cute thing he ever saw _and_ a bad case of completionism when it came to collections, this seemed a little goofy. It was the kind of thing couples did on their anniversary.

Or anyway, that’s what he thought until they walked into the back and saw two entire rooms filled with teeny tiny miniature doodads of every possible type, just waiting to be placed in a cute little tableau. Then he just felt greedy. And they didn’t even have to use snow-looking stuff to float around in the liquid, there was glitter, and there were little butterflies, and bats, and a hundred other little things.

Minseok made a mental tally of every person he knew, and figured he could pick out a different, sweet little setup up for each of them. And enjoy every second of it.

He poked around in all the little drawers, looking at miniature castles and mountains, tractors and silos, skyscrapers, woodland creatures. He found one section that had a tiny computer, and figures wearing headphones. He found one figure in a sitting position and a little desk, and it made him smile to think that he could create a globe with silver glitter in it that looked like Baek sitting in front of his gaming rig.

Jongdae insisted on sitting on the other side of the bench across from him, with a partition between them.

“No way, hyung, we can’t see what the other is doing until we’re done,” he said.

Which was fine. Minseok liked the process of picking a music box that played a video-game tune, and gluing everything down in place with tweezers, like putting together a Gundam figure, only without the months of effort. It looked really good when he was finished. He knew Baekhyun would love it.

“Okay, done!” Jongdae said just after Minseok finished his globe. “Let me see yours.”

Minseok carried it around to the other side of the bench. He watched Jongdae’s mouth drop open, and he took the snow globe in both hands, turning it around to look at the little figure inside, silver glitter swirling around. His cheeks went pink.

“It’s a computer guy,” he said softly.

His thumb slid over the glass of the globe, and Minseok felt like a popsicle in the hot sun.

“Hyung, did you make this for me?” Jongdae asked the snow globe.

Because he was “in tech,” right? It was such a dumb little thing, but he looked so pleased. And what Baekhyun didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Hell, even if he did know, he’d probably be the first one to suggest that Jongdae needed it.

“Of course I did,” Minseok said, and hugged Jongdae.

Jongdae went stiff at first, but Minseok held on, and after a pause, he felt a heavy exhale by his ear, and Jongdae’s arms went around his back. Jongdae was warm, and his cologne was a little sharp and citrusy. Minseok thought it prudent to give a quick squeeze and step back.

“I love it,” Jongdae said.

“I’m glad.”

Jongdae handed over his own snow globe. It had a little panel truck in it, with a piece of bread painted on the side and a tiny figure standing beside it. When Minseok shook it, pieces of toast-colored glitter floated around, and the music box played “Good morning” from _Singin’ in the Rain._

Minseok had to set it on the bench while he laughed.

“I really do have too many jobs,” he said when he caught his breath.

“Yeah. I’m about to promote you to live-in friend just so I know you’re getting enough sleep,” Jongdae said.

Minseok smacked Jongdae’s arm and grinned at him.

They tussled at the counter.

“You do not get to pay for your own damn gift, Jongdae,”

“But this was my idea! This is part of the arrangement!”

Minseok pulled out the glare that he used when his old folks tried to wriggle their way out of the yoga poses they didn’t like. Eventually, Jongdae drooped.

“Thanks, hyung,” he muttered.

Minseok paid for the snow globe, then handed the bag to him.

“You’re welcome.”

He called Baekhyun when he got home after dinner; as anticipated, Baek was strongly in favor of the snow globe having gone to Jongdae, even if he didn’t know any details at all.

“He sounds like a lost little puppy, you have to bring him to Wednesday dinner.”

“Given the whole NDA thing, I’m not sure how likely that is, and besides, he’s more like a kitten.”

“You like cats better than dogs anyway,” Baekhyun said in his flirty voice.

“Baek.”

“Come on, hyung. I know you. You’re a sucker for anybody who needs to be loved on. You’re almost as bad as Chanyeol, you just hide it better. Is he cute? You know you’re a goner if he’s cute.”

Sadly, Jongdae was extremely cute, no matter how much Minseok tried to ignore it.

“That’s not our arrangement, Baek. And I don’t even know if he likes boys.”

“When did that ever stop you from pining miserably?”

The whole idea of the paid-friend thing, as opposed to this business of hanging around with people who knew one’s most troublesome faults, suddenly seemed even more appealing.

“Screw you, Baekhyun.”

“I’ve been trying for years, hyung! You keep telling me you don’t like me that way!”

Minseok hung up on him.

And then sent him a cute dog picture a few minutes later, just in case Baek thought he was serious.

Jongdae’s work got busier after that for a couple of weeks, and their friend outings weren’t as frequent. Minseok started to fret about his bank account, until Jongin’s sister hooked him up with a few students in their apartment building who needed tutoring in math and history. Given his lack of any official qualifications, that paid almost nothing until the kids started pulling in better grades, and Jongin’s sister swept in like a shark to negotiate raises for him.

“You’re a lifesaver, noona,” he said.

“I can’t stand it when Nini worries, I’m just looking out for myself here,” she said with a grin before she breezed out to take advantage of her afternoon of free babysitting.

He was on the bus back home when he got two text messages: one from Jongdae wanting to know whether he was free for dinner and one from his bank saying that there had been a data breach.

By the time Jongdae darted into the pizza shop, 20 minutes late, Minseok was pretty sure he was one-third bald from pulling his own hair out.

“Hyung! What’s wrong?”

Minseok told him about the data breach.

“Why does everything have to have a different password? I can never remember any of them, and now I have to change them all, and it’s going to be hell until I get everything re-saved and I clear out all the stupid emails from resetting everything, argh.”

“Why don’t you use a password vault?”

“A what?”

Jongdae’s expression went soft, with a broad smile and crescent-shaped eyes. Minseok buried the internal flash of “holy smokes, he’s cute” as deep as it would go.

“Hyung. Let’s order and I’ll make your life easier for you.”

Minseok was a little annoyed that no one (Baekhyun) had ever told him it was possible to have an app on his phone that he could lock with his thumbprint and keep all his passwords saved so he didn’t have to reset them every week because he forgot them.

He was even more annoyed that apparently full sentences were even harder to hack than random incomprehensible strings of numbers and characters. By the end of dinner, his passwords were things like “Channie is the ta!!est boy in the wor1d” and “Never listen 2 Baekhyun?” and “Jongdae i5 my new f@vorite person” (that last one got a blush and a grin) – which he’d probably be able to remember even without the dang password vault.

Regardless, he was all set up. Jongdae had even reorganized all his apps into folders, so his screen didn’t look so crowded.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about making my life easier. I ought to be the one paying you for today.”

Jongdae knocked against him and mumbled something.

“What’s that?”

“It’s nice to do something useful for somebody I actually like.”

This guy. Really.

Minseok put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed, and Jongdae smiled at the table.

“Not that I’m complaining, because then you wouldn’t have time for me, but how come you don’t have a girlfriend, hyung?” Jongdae asked later that evening, when they were walking around eating ice cream despite the fact that the evening was cool and a little windy.

Minseok could never help the little spike of nervousness that accompanied this conversation with a new person. It had only gone badly a couple of times, but those were enough.

“Because the first time I kissed a girl, my only reaction was to realize that I wanted to be kissing boys.”

“Oh,” Jongdae said, and then, after half a dozen steps, “ _oh_.”

And then, after another dozen steps.

“Then why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Minseok laughed. Jongdae grinned at him and bumped his arm. Minseok let his relief make him giddy. He told himself it was _only_ relief making him giddy.

“Too busy, mostly,” Minseok said. “Too broke to spoil someone rotten, which is what I generally like to do. And I’m not great at casual dating. I like all the relationshippy bits, not the chase.”

Jongdae was silent for a long while after that.

“I liked feeling like there was somebody to come home to,” he said. “Somebody who was always happy to see me.”

Minseok could’ve pointed out that it didn’t take a lover to play that role, but it sounded as if Jongdae wasn’t done yet.

“Except it turned out to be a lie.”

Ouch.

“That’s hard,” Minseok said.

“Yeah.”

When they parted shortly thereafter, Minseok hugged Jongdae again. Jongdae clung to him, whispered “thanks” in his ear.

Whatever was going on with Jongdae’s work ramped up over the next little bit. Minseok didn’t see him at all, though he woke up several times to multiple text messages time-stamped in the middle of the night, all about as incomprehensible as Baek’s overnight texts when he was on a gaming binge. Minseok sent back reminders to eat and stretch. He knew better than to suggest sleep. Friends of several of the kids he tutored took him on as well, so his afternoons and early evenings got busy with that, and his late nights with stuffing junior-high curriculum into his brain.

It had been 9 days since he’d last seen Jongdae when he got a text at 7:30 asking whether he was free for breakfast.

“Working the toast truck,” he wrote.

He didn’t know where Jongdae’s office was, but the truck was smack in the middle of the business district that day, so Minseok sent the address just in case. Less than an hour later, during a slow spot, he looked down through the window to see a small figure in a snapback and hoodie.

“Jongdae?”

“Hey, hyung.”

He looked pale and exhausted.

“Hi! Are you just here for toast? Or if you have some time, you can come in and chat for a bit?”

The way Jongdae’s eyes went wide and he nodded so eagerly pulled at Minseok’s heart strings. Minseok opened the door, and Jongdae climbed into the truck, looking around at how crowded-yet-organized it was, ready to supply the hungry and sleepy with their allotments of bread and caffeine.

“You’re here alone?”

“The before-work rush is over,” Minseok said. “After about eight, it’s definitely a one-person job. There’s another little busy spot around ten, usually, and then I drive back to the parking spot by eleven.”

“And then to the retirement center,” Jongdae said.

Minseok grinned.

“Right. And I’m tutoring science and history today.”

Jongdae shook his head.

“All you ever do is work, hyung.”

Minseok found his hand reaching out to ruffle Jongdae’s hair before he could stop himself.

“That may be, but you look way more exhausted than I do,” he said. “Sit.”

Jongdae’s answers to questions about his work project were monosyllabic, but he visibly relaxed, even smiled a little when Minseok put a paper-wrapped serving of honey toast and a (decaf) coffee into his hands.

“You don’t have to feed me, hyung.”

“Maybe not. Going to anyway.”

Jongdae rolled his eyes, but he took a bite of the honey toast, blinked at it, and ate half the serving in a flash. They talked happily about toast for longer than any of Minseok’s other friends would put up with – when he found out that Minseok’s favorite was the cinnamon toast, Jongdae demanded to try that – until the mid-morning rush started up and Minseok had to attend to actual work.

When he was done filling the orders of the 7 people in line, Minseok looked back into the corner of the truck to see Jongdae asleep, chin on his chest. He was curled up a little with one hand on his cheek, leaned against the cabinet holding the bread.

Minseok had an uncommonly good-looking group of friends, and he had harbored crushes on each of them for a while at the beginning of each of their friendships. It hadn’t always been easy to refuse Baekhyun’s advances, even knowing that Baek thrived on a level of chaos and himself on a level of order such that they would drive each other crazy. And it had been confusing to realize that Chanyeol was asexual, and that his flirtation and cuddling _could_ go further on a daily-life and commitment sort of level, but never farther than that on the physical side.

So he recognized the signs in himself, watching Jongdae curled up in the back corner of Kibum’s toast truck on a Tuesday morning. Knowing that Jongdae was a couple of centimeters taller but thinking of him as small and vulnerable and wanting to protect him. Tracing the angles of Jongdae’s face with his eyes and wishing to do so with his fingers.

It would pass eventually, he knew, and they would settle into plain friendship. In the meantime, Minseok let himself sigh at the sight of Jongdae’s handsome face relaxed in sleep, let himself place his jacket over Jongdae’s torso and wait for him to wake.

Jongdae woke suddenly about 45 minutes later, wary, staring around at himself until he remembered where he was. Minseok wondered at his discomfort. Whoever had betrayed him, it must’ve been really bad.

“I think I dozed off, hyung.”

“You obviously needed it.”

Jongdae scowled. Then he looked down at the jacket covering him, up at Minseok, and pressed his lips together.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Minseok watched Jongdae try to come up with something. He wanted to laugh. He succeeded at not doing so.

Jongdae took a box full of assorted toasts and a carrier of coffees with him when Minseok kicked him out. The truck was so crowded that it made for a weird, cramped hug, but at least Jongdae didn’t look quite so close to the verge of collapse.

At dinner the next night, Baekhyun snapped his fingers at them.

“Everybody give me your phones.”

Sehun clutched his precious baby in its rhinestone case to his chest.

“Why?”

“Security update. And I know none of you losers know how to update your phones or spend any time online, so you have to trust me on this.”

“I didn’t get a notification to update,” Minseok said.

Baekhyun raised his eyes to the heavens and sighed.

“Please. I love you all to the very bottom of my bitter, shriveled heart. Can you please trust me that I need to fucking update your fucking phones.”

“But why?” Jongin asked.

“I dunno, man, there was some kind of data breach, and this famous programmer guy came on the boards with a patch. He’s been around for years, when Chen tells you to update, you update, so give me your phones.”

“I had a data breach,” Minseok said. “I got a notification from my bank.”

“See? Must be the same thing. I trust this guy’s patch, so let me do this,” Baekhyun said.

“But I already updated my passwords,” Minseok said.

“Good job, hyung! Please do that more frequently than once every six years. But this won’t affect anything like that, it’s in your OS, just another layer of protection.”

Minseok handed over his phone. Once he did, everyone else followed suit, and Baekhyun was busy working on them until dinner was ready.

“HYUNG,” Minseok’s text message blared the next morning, “I SLEPT FIFTEEN HOURS ATE TWO PIZZAS AND SLEPT ANOTHER TWELVE HOURS please tell me you have some time today.”

On Thursdays, he had two yoga classes and Sit & Stretch, but all his tutoring kids were off on a field trip to Bukchon Hanok Village.

“After 2 I’m all yours,” he wrote.

He walked out of the retirement home at 2:15 to find a bright yellow sports car parked out front. Given the whole background check thing, he couldn’t really be surprised that Jongdae hung out the window, yelling his name.

“Jongdae. This is a Ferrari,” he said.

Jongdae grimaced.

“Yeah. I got a little over-excited with my first bonus.”

Minseok took a moment to curse his brain’s propensity for theoretical math and movement efficiency instead of something that paid well enough to purchase an Italian sports car with one bonus.

“I want to drive to the coast,” Jongdae said. “Do you have time? Does that sound fun? Is that okay?”

Minseok was tired, and a little sweaty after yoga, and ready to eat the car in front of him. But Jongdae’s smile was so bright, and the way he talked at twice his normal speed was adorable.

“Sounds great,” he said.

The “back seat” of the Ferrari was so small that his backpack barely fit in it, and the seat was so low that Minseok wondered whether he’d be able to feel bumps in the road through his ass. But Jongdae insisted that he be in charge of music on the drive. Minseok tried to dredge up some residual coolness, which ran out after his 6 favorite J-rock songs, and they ended up singing along to his running mix, which was heavy on girl groups and twinkly American pop music. He would’ve been embarrassed, except that Jongdae seemed to know all the words too.

They drove for a couple of hours, south and west, all the way to Chongjuk, jutting out into the sea. Minseok thought he might’ve balked if he’d known Jongdae’s plan ahead of time, but he didn’t _really_ have any plans for the afternoon. And they’d spent the time laughing and singing while the absurd car roared around them. The sun was setting over the water, and the air smelled of salt and fish.

Jongdae seemed to know exactly where he wanted to go, out of town to the south, where he parked in a public parking lot, and they climbed up the beach to a tiny restaurant overlooking the water.

The grannies working at the restaurant greeted Jongdae as if they halfway recognized him. He and Minseok sat at a table outside, squinting at the glare of sunset. Jongdae ordered pretty much every crab dish on the menu and half the shrimp ones.

“How do you know this place?” Minseok asked when the granny left them with their side dishes and beer bottles.

“I found it driving around once when I was having some bad times,” Jongdae said. “It’s so quiet, and the food’s so good. I just kept coming back.”

The food was excellent, even if Minseok thought he might explode by the time they were done eating everything. They walked some of it off, up and down the beach in the darkness. Jongdae was hunched over a little, hands in his pockets. Minseok slung an arm around his neck and tried not to lend any significance to the way their strides matched.

Just about the time Minseok’s knee started to twinge, Jongdae sighed and said,

“I guess I should get you back, hyung, you probably have a busy day tomorrow.”

“I do,” Minseok said. “Not you?”

Jongdae shrugged; Minseok dropped his arm.

“Nah. Joonmyun – my boss – he’s good about letting me set my own hours. I just finished one little project, and I’ve got another really big one coming up, so I just have to poke my nose in occasionally for the next week or so. I mean. I’ve got a little personal thing I’m working on, but mostly I kind of have the next week off.”

“Nice,” Minseok said.

By that point, they were back at the car. Minseok ignored the way the parking lot’s streetlights made the angles of Jongdae’s face look sharp and spare.

“Do you think maybe you’ll have some time?” Jongdae asked. “To do some stuff?”

Minseok crossed his arms on the low roof of the car – a novel experience, given his height, he planned to enjoy it while he could.

“Like what?”

Jongdae pulled out his phone and opened an app.

Minseok had to grin. He really did have a list! So cute.

“I dunno, hyung, we could take a cooking class, or go to a cat café, or. Why are you smiling like that?”

“Smiling like what?” Minseok said, knowing full well.

“Like I’m being dumb.”

Minseok smiled wider.

“That is absolutely not the kind of smile I have on my face, Jongdae.”

Jongdae wrinkled his nose.

“Where’d you get that list?”

Jongdae groaned.

Minseok waited.

“I keep a lot a variety shows on in the background while I’m working, okay?” Jongdae groused finally.

“I knew it,” Minseok said.

Jongdae glared.

“Knew what?”

“This is all stuff from _We Got Married_!”

Jongdae opened his mouth, closed it, and laid his forehead on the roof of the car. Minseok laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me, hyung,” Jongdae groaned.

“I can’t help it, you’re adorable,” Minseok said.

Jongdae raised his head and squinted.

“And I totally want to go to a cat café, I love cats.”

“Seriously?”

Minseok nodded.

They were about 20 minutes on their way back to Seoul, Minseok’s playlist of soft indie music going in the background, before he decided that Jongdae looked like he was working his way back to more frowning.

“We don’t have to have events, you know,” he said. “I like the times when we just hang out as well as I like doing stuff.”

It was pretty strange, as the hired half of their duo, to be the one to say it. But Jongdae seemed to work so hard, it was so unnecessary.

“You like hanging out with me?” Jongdae asked quietly.

“Of course I do. Can’t you tell?”

The highway sped past, alternating darkness and light. The song changed, and then again.

“What do you do with your friends?”

Minseok settled into his seat at an angle, so he could watch Jongdae drive, his ease with the gear shift, the way his eyes cut to the rear-view mirror, and his profile in the dim light. He told Jongdae about Wednesday dinners, about playing basketball with Chanyeol and how they’d sing at open mics together sometimes. He talked about shopping with Sehun, and hanging around bookstores with Jongin, or taking Nini’s niece and nephew to the park to play with Hunnie’s dog, the times when Jongin used him as a model for his photography course. He talked about all the long weekend days just hanging out in Baekhyun’s apartment bitching at him to clean the place up, lying next to each other on the platform outside Baek’s rooftop unit, wishing there were more stars and talking about their hopes and dreams.

“You make it sound easy,” Jongdae said.

“It is easy,” Minseok said. “You just have to trust that the people you’re spending time with also want to be spending time with you.”

He watched Jongdae think that over, while the fancy car ate up the road and the late night started to infiltrate his brain with the fuzziness of exhaustion.

“What would you pick, if you were in charge of what we do, hyung?”

Minseok shook his head. So stubborn.

“It’s a good time of year for hiking,” he said, “with the leaves starting to turn.”

And that was funny, because Jongdae obviously wanted to stare at him, but also he needed to keep his eyes on the road, so his head waggled back and forth.

“Like, exercise?” he said, sounding outraged.

“Like exercise,” Minseok said.

“Ugh, hyung,” Jongdae said. “Why would you say that to me? Now I’m going to have voluntarily use my muscles _and_ pay you for the privilege, I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

Jongdae showed up for their hiking outing looking like he had stepped out of a brochure for a tour group in Switzerland. Minseok bit his lip until the urge to guffaw passed.

“What do you have in that backpack?”

There could be anything in there, up to about a 3-year-old child.

“Nothing? I figured you’d tell me what I need to pack.”

“You don’t need that, Jongdae. That’s the kind of bag you use for multiple-day camping trips. All we’re going to do is walk up a big hill, look at a nice view, and walk back down again.”

Jongdae’s shoulders hunched, and his lower lip was actually stuck out a little as he frowned at the floor.

“You have a bag,” he muttered, nodding at Minseok’s much-smaller pack.

“It’s got a couple of water bottles and some snacks, and I will absolutely let you carry it,” Minseok said cheerfully to Jongdae’s scowl. “Are those new boots?”

Jongdae nodded.

“How many pairs of socks are you wearing?”

“One?”

Minseok made Jongdae show him: cotton socks. With brand new boots.

“No way, you’ll be nothing but blisters if you wear those! Sit.”

Jongdae tried to protest borrowing Minseok’s shoes and socks, the wearing of wool socks in general, and the leaving behind of his stiff, fancy boots.

“Just let hyung take care of you,” Minseok snapped finally.

Jongdae turned approximately the color of a tomato. But he took the socks from Minseok’s hands and put them on, laced Minseok’s running shoes tight over his slightly smaller feet. Minseok watched him stare around at the studio apartment, crowded with belongings but tidy, and wondered how it compared to his own place, which was probably on a street surrounded by nightclubs, tens of stories up in the air.

“I don’t have a stick,” Jongdae said as they were walking out, just to get in one more protest.

“A spry young thing like you? I’m sure you won’t need one,” Minseok grinned.

Maybe at some point he’d even find out how much younger Jongdae was. It couldn’t be that much.

Minseok couldn’t understand how Jongdae could just casually park a freaking Ferrari in the parking lot of a public park without having a heart attack, but he did. He grumbled a little at the beginning of their climb (though not enough to give up being stubborn about carrying the pack), but once they were the only people visible on the trail and the landscape turned prettier, he perked up, craning his head around and straining the limits of Minseok’s knowledge of local plants with his questions.

Minseok had walked this trail many times – it usually took about 2 hours. They took almost 3, because Jongdae kept having to stop to take pictures of tree roots and mushrooms and the like. At the top of the mountain was a pretty overlook from which to stare out across Seoul and a little tea stand. Instant coffees and milk bread tasted amazing in the chill breeze after several hours’ walk.

The company, full of smiles and exclamations, was pretty great too.

“Hyung, it’s so pretty!” Jongdae kept saying. “How do you not come here all the time, I love it!”

Just the thought of a weekly climb made Minseok’s knee ache. He knew he’d be spending quality time in the evening with an ice pack. But it was impossible not to smile at Jongdae’s enthusiasm.

“There are clubs that do just that,” he said. “They take pictures or make drawing to show how the trail changes with the seasons, and take temperature readings and things too. There’s a website.”

Minseok grinned into his cup at the ensuing couple minutes of complete silence, then dutifully looked at the website he had been to at least a dozen times before.

“Hyung. This is really fun, I’m sorry I complained,” Jongdae said as they cleaned up.

His chin was ducked down, so that he looked over at Minseok through a set of absurdly long eyelashes, the natural curve of his mouth ever so slightly widened by a shy smile.

So that didn’t really help with the whole pesky crush thing.

“It is fun,” Minseok said. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

He was ready to count the day as a total victory until about halfway back down, when his foot caught on a loose rock, he stumbled, and his knee wrenched sideways.

Thank god for his walking stick: Minseok caught himself with it, and didn’t fall, which helped. Then he could hang onto it while pain rolled through him, bad enough to make him feel momentarily sick.

He knew everything possible about his knee and all its different varieties of hurt. This wasn’t the pain of re-injury. It was just a bad twist, old pieced-together ligaments unhappy to be strained. A couple of days, a lot of ice packs, and more doses of NSAID than were recommended on the label and he’d be fine.

In the meantime, somehow he had to get down of this stupid mountain without throwing up on Jongdae.

“Hyung!” Jongdae said from much closer than he had previously been standing, hands outstretched but not touching.

“Minseok. What is it?”

His voice held a sharpness Minseok hadn’t heard before, all business.

“Just my knee,” Minseok said through clenched teeth. “It’s okay.”

“It is very clearly not okay.”

An arm wrapped firmly around Minseok’s waist.

“Lean on me, hyung.”

Between Jongdae trying to take most of his weight and the walking stick, Minseok was able to hobble down the mountain, at a pace even slower than they’d taken going up. Jongdae kept up a low-voiced patter of encouragement the whole way. They were both sweaty and puffing when they got to the car, and Minseok knew that his brace was the only thing keeping his knee from being the size of a melon.

Jongdae helped Minseok lower himself into the car – a very tricky process – and sighed heavily when he dropped into the driver’s seat.

“I’m so sorry,” Minseok said.

Jongdae’s head snapped around, and his glower was fierce.

“Don’t you dare be sorry, hyung, you’re hurt. Do you care what hospital we go to?”

“I don’t need the hospital.”

“Like hell you don’t! You’re still pale!”

“Because it hurts like a son of a bitch, Jongdae. But it’s an old pain, they won’t do anything for me at the hospital that I won’t do at home. I’m going to have to take a couple days off work as it is, I can’t have a hospital bill on top of it.”

He could see the offer to pay for it try to rise up and exit Jongdae’s mouth, and Minseok was briefly furious. It must’ve shown on his face, because Jongdae blinked at him and raised his hands.

“Okay, hyung.”

Which was terrific, because he definitely should make Jongdae feel bad too just so they could suffer together, great job Minseok.

Minseok stared at his stupid knee, which didn’t make it hurt any less. Jongdae reached over and plucked at his jacket sleeve.

"Can I ask? Don’t get mad at me again, hyung, I was afraid you were gonna hit me with your walking stick. But – can you even make it up three flights of stairs to your apartment?”

Minseok exhaled.

“I made it down the mountain,” he said. “I’ll have to make it up the stairs. God knows I went up and down those stairs on my butt plenty of times, I can do it again.”

“There aren’t any stairs at my place,” Jongdae mumbled.

“I can’t just intrude on your privacy, Jongdae - “

“Please.”

His fingers gripped Minseok’s wrist tight.

“Please, hyung, all I’m gonna do is worry that you might fall and hurt yourself again. I won’t make you stay long. I know we’re not _really_ friends but it would just. I would feel better if you’d just come to my house.”

How was he supposed to say no to that? So sweetly asked. And if he could catch his breath, in a couple of hours he could call Sehun for a lift. Chanyeol’s apartment was only one flight up, and his sofa wasn’t too uncomfortable.

“We are actually friends, you idiot,” he said.

Maybe it was Minseok’s wooziness talking, but Jongdae’s smile just looked so _happy_.

“Okay, friend,” Jongdae said. “Let’s go home.”

“Home” was a tall, shiny building in Hongdae, because of course it was. And apparently Ferraris got to park in spaces right next to the elevator, which, again, of course, but Minseok was grateful for it. His leg had settled into a deep throb during the drive that sharped back into a stabbing sensation the second he tried to turn to get out of the car.

“Would you hold on and let me come around to help you,” Jongdae barked.

Minseok, knowing himself to be a terrible patient, foresaw hearing that tone again in the upcoming little bit. Jongdae was right, though. Even with help, getting up and across to the elevator was an exercise in hissing, gritted teeth, and pain.

He definitely heard the word “hospital” in an annoyed whisper while Jongdae hauled him down a chic hallway once the elevator stopped at the 41st floor. But he was too busy concentrating on forward motion and then too relieved to finally sit on Jongdae’s oversized sofa and haul his leg up.

“What do you need?”

“An ice pack, please.”

Jongdae disappeared, and Minseok took a moment to goggle at the sheer size of Jongdae’s living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. It had the biggest TV he had ever seen, hooked up to even more electronics than Baekhyun’s was. The sofa was enormous, in butter-soft black leather. There were a few books on the shelves, and a few action figures. Otherwise, it looked like the kind of place you saw in real-estate listings, not like anybody lived there.

Minseok was just thinking that he might have enough fortitude to lean forward and take his own shoe off when Jongdae returned from wherever he’d gone bearing something black in his hands. He frowned at Minseok’s outstretched arm, sat down and untied his hiking boots for him. Minseok squeezed the black ice pack in his hands and tried not to feel like a jerk.

Jongdae came back from putting their shoes away just in time to gawp at Minseok’s knee brace during the extensive unstrapping process.

“Hyung,” he said.

He took the brace out of Minseok’s hands and placed it on the coffee table, staring at the mess of scars on Minseok’s knee. Minseok draped the ice pack over it; Jongdae took it from him and stripped it apart with the ripping sound of Velcro, wrapped it around Minseok’s knee twice and secured it.

“That’s nice,” Minseok said.

“I get headaches when I don’t sleep enough. This is meant to be worn around your head, but I figured it would work for this too.”

“It’s great, thank you.”

There was more bustling, which resulted in the coffee table moved for maximum comfortable distance and a pillow tucked under Minseok’s foot; a bottle of ibuprofen, a carafe of water and a glass on small tray; and the rest of the tray covered in a variety of snacks. All the flitting around made Minseok tired – but it was also seriously adorable, just like the huff of breath Jongdae let out when he finally plopped onto the sofa on the other side of the tray.

“Anything else, hyung? A blanket? Clean socks? Did you take something?”

“You’ve been more than kind, Jongdae, I feel better already.”

It was even mostly true. Elevation and ice worked wonders.

Jongdae fussed with the snacks until they were arranged in some mysteriously preferable configuration and topped off Minseok’s glass of water.

“What happened, hyung?”

“I just stepped wrong and twisted my knee. I swear it’s not serious, I’ll be fine.”

“No, I mean – “

“Originally?”

Jongdae nodded.

“It was stupid,” Minseok said. “Just one of those dumb things that happens. I was playing football with my weekend league and simply came down on it wrong. Tore every ligament in there and my cartilage besides.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, it sucked. Two surgeries, on crutches for months, PT for over a year. That’s why I work so much. I’ll be paying off those bills for another decade. On top of, you know, my damn knee never working right again.”

Jongdae frowned at Minseok’s black-wrapped knee.

“The ice is really helping, thank you,” Minseok said.

Jongdae nodded.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asked after a minute.

Movie-and-snacks eventually turned into movie-and-beers-and-ramen. Minseok successfully hobbled to the bathroom and back with only moderate arguing with Jongdae about not needing help. The wrap got warm, and Jongdae replaced it with his backup, which gave Minseok the opportunity to frown about the implications for Jongdae’s headache situation. The sun set outside, until the city lit up to make up for the pollution masking the stars above them, and Jongdae never turned any lights on, so they sat next to each other while American action heroes blew things up on the TV.

“What would you do if you didn’t have to work so many jobs?” Jongdae asked.

The square-jawed, mountain-sized actor on the screen was driving a car through the window of one building across thin air into another skyscraper at the time, so it took Minseok a minute to gather his thoughts.

“I used to have no idea,” he said. “But I think after everything I went through, I’d like to be a physical therapist. That’s more training than I can afford, though. I’m just hoping to get enough of my debt paid off soon enough that I can get certified as a personal trainer. I think that’d be pretty good. What would you do if you weren’t in tech?”

“I don’t know anything else,” Jongdae said. “I started messing around with computers when I was fourteen, and started coding when I was fifteen. I barely made it through high school, just because I couldn’t make myself care about anything else. I started my first job the same day I graduated, I’ve never done anything different.”

“Do you like it?”

He looked over. Two beers in, when he was exhausted and frazzled, the way Jongdae’s eyes were shadows and the light from the TV highlighted his cheekbones was almost too much to bear.

“I guess. I like when I make things that help people, or make them happy.”

“That’s really cool,” Minseok said. “That you found a thing you can do that you enjoy _and_ get to live like this.”

“I guess,” Jongdae said.

Minseok had no memory of listing sideways or falling asleep. He went from shiny cars and explosions straight to disorientation, with a variety show on the TV, but at the wrong angle, and the wrong texture under his cheek: definitely _not_ sofa leather. More like ripstop fabric, maybe. And the definite, if hesitant, sensation of a hand on his bicep.

“Oh god,” he said.

“You’re awake.”

“Shit.”

Minseok tried to sit up, did so too quickly, hissed at the twinge of pain, and set about the supremely awkward experience of slowly levering himself up from his nap position on Jongdae’s thigh.

Great.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Jongdae said.

“Uh. I didn’t mean to flop over and sleep on your leg,” Minseok said.

They stared at each other. Minseok wished for an asteroid to hit the building, or something.

“I should go.”

Jongdae grabbed his elbow.

“It’s so late, hyung. I’ve got a guest room, it’s totally okay, you’re obviously super tired…”

It was late – far too late to call Sehun, given his office job. Too late to show up at Chanyeol’s apartment. And the thought of traveling made him want to weep, he was so exhausted. And Jongdae was cuter than ever, rushing around to set him up with clothes to sleep in and a clean toothbrush. The guest bathroom had a little basket full of miniature toiletries from fancy hotels all over the world, which Jongdae showed off with a flourish that made Minseok wonder what variety show _that_ idea had appeared in.

Jongdae was helping not at all with the whole getting over his crush thing.

“It’s great, thank you.”

“I want you to be comfortable, hyung.”

“I know I will be.”

It was the first time Jongdae initiated a hug.

“You sure you’re okay, hyung?”

Minseok felt the warmth of Jongdae’s breath against his ear. He tried to remember the last person he had slept tangled up with. He tried to remember the last person he had slept tangled up with who wasn’t Chanyeol, Baekhyun, or both. Had he really not dated anyone in so many years?

Was that what made Jongdae smell so good? Was it loneliness that made Jongdae’s chest feel so warm?

“I feel really terrible for ruining our good day,” he said.

Baek had showed him how to recall an email once. Too bad one couldn’t recall emo comments made to one’s crush’s shoulder at 1:00 a.m.

Jongdae squeezed him.

“Not ruined, hyung,” he said.

The guest room was as impersonal and pretty as a hotel room, and the bed comfortable enough that Minseok dropped off the instant his knee stopped protesting having been asked to perform its tasks while he washed up.

In the morning, he was in the middle of a serious lecture with himself about how he spent the night at friends’ houses all the time, sleeping over at a friend’s house was perfectly normal and he was incapacitated besides, lingering hugs in the middle of the night weren’t a sign of anything special, he couldn’t be a jackass about this – when the door slowly opened just wide enough to show a single dark eye.

Dangit, it was too early in the day for Jongdae to start off with the cuteness. No matter what time it was.

He waved.

“Hyung! Did I wake you up?”

“No.”

He called the retirement center first, while Jongdae poked at a big shiny box that Minseok figured was one of those coffee makers that was more interested in looking fancy than it was in making decent coffee. He hated to wake Jongin up, but any phone call before noon had pretty good odds of doing so, and the first class at the retirement center was at 12:15. Jongin, as ever, was happy to save the day, and all the old ladies loved to coo over him, so that was good, other than the part where he’d lose out on the paycheck.

Kibum, for all his snappy commentary day to day, immediately told Minseok not to show up for the next two days on pain of ear-flicking. And he didn’t have tutoring until the next day, so Minseok was left with an entire day and most of the next to mourn his poor strained bank account and the need to spend more time sedentary than he liked.

The hardest thing about it was convincing Jongdae that he didn’t need to stay and be waited on hand and foot: in part because that was so tempting.

Minseok knew that he just needed to rest and stretch carefully for a couple of days and he’d be most of the way to fine. But to be waited on by a cute guy with a loose grip on his own debit card? _Such_ a temptation. Not a temptation Minseok would ever let himself give in to, though, even if he (a) wasn’t the paid friend and (b) didn’t know that somebody had been really shitty to Jongdae in the past.

“But I _don’t_ have other stuff to do, hyung,” Jongdae said by way of counter-argument. “I already told you I pretty much have the week off.”

That was how Minseok got suckered into breakfast in front of _Hyori’s Homestay_ that turned into a whole discussion of all the places in the world they wanted to/had visited that took them through lunch, until Minseok insisted on going home.

“Hyung.”

“I’m not going to fall over. By this time tomorrow I’ll barely be limping.”

Jongdae opened his mouth, and Minseok kept talking.

“I want to take a shower and change my clothes and be around all my own stuff. You’ve been more than great, I’m really grateful.”

“We’re practically the same size, you could – “

“Jongdae. We would have to be a _lot_ closer before I’d feel remotely comfortable borrowing your fucking underwear or going commando in your clothes.”

Minseok took the deep red that overtook Jongdae’s face as agreement.

“Okay, I’ll take you home, hyung,” Jongdae said, sounding slightly strangled.

Jongdae insisted on helping Minseok up the stairs and fretting around in a circle until Minseok hugged him and literally pushed him out the door with a promise to text his safe emergence from the shower. What a dork. On top of wanting to kiss him senseless, Minseok hoped he’d be able to introduce Jongdae to his friends some day. They’d love him.

Of course, when Minseok was finally clean and opened his phone to text Jongdae, he found his bank account increased by an amount calculated down to the quarter-hour of all the time he’d spent with Jongdae, including all the care-taking, feeding, and being asleep in another damn room.

To add insult to injury, Minseok lost the text argument about it, too. It didn’t help that he kind of wanted to lose the argument, since the money would save his bacon, given missed work and needing to take cabs around while his knee calmed down. So obnoxious.

“Well, I can’t fault him for freaking out, I would’ve done the same,” Chanyeol said at dinner the following night. “Sounds like he did everything right, to me.”

“For a fake friend, he sounds pretty real,” Sehun said.

Which was, of course, the problem. Minseok had expected the group chat to nag him all day long about how he was doing. He hadn’t expected that Jongdae would bug him constantly too and have to be fussed out of bringing over food at two different mealtimes.

“You’re pining,” Baekhyun said as they hobbled (Minseok hobbled) out of Chanyeol’s apartment. “You’re going to sprout green needles any minute now.”

There wasn’t any point in hiding it, Baekhyun always seemed to have a direct view straight into his brain.

“It’s so bad, Baek.”

Minseok thought the stairs to Baek’s place were probably a little more than his much-better knee could take, so they had to resort to sober and snack-free grumbling, because the only comfortable spot for two people to lounge in Minseok’s apartment was his bed, and no food items were allowed in the bed, ever.

It still was pretty nice to lie with his head on Baekhyun’s arm and feel Baek’s big toe stroke his calf.

“He’s so lonely, Baek.”

“Oh god, your terminal weakness: the cute and lonely.”

“I never said he was cute.”

“You didn’t have to. You get your dopey ‘he’s so cute’ smile on your face every time you say the phrase ‘my friend.’ It’s almost as bad as it was when Nini was just that pretty boy at the bookstore.”

“Oh god, it’s that bad?”

Baekhyun patted his shoulder condescendingly. Or maybe soothingly. Probably a little of both.

“Is it weird yet, hyung? The paid thing?”

Minseok had to sigh. He’d tried so hard not to even have this conversation with himself, much less anybody else. Even though he knew that not talking about stuff only made it pile up in the background. And this was a pretty big pile already.

“Yeah.”

Baek tapped him on the head. Minseok huffed.

“I really enjoy his company,” Minseok said once he had his thoughts sorted out. “As long as he wants me to be his friend, I am, no matter what the circumstances. But Baek, if he weren’t paying me, I’d ask him out in a hot minute. But I can’t, because he _does_ pay me. And I hate myself a little bit, because I kind of don’t want him to stop paying me, because for the first time since my surgery I’m paying more than the minimum amount on my loans, every month is cutting so much time off how long I’ll have to keep paying them off. And I genuinely don’t know whether that’s being more selfish to him or to me.”

“That sucks,” Baekhyun said.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you should just plant one on him,” Baek said. “Maybe he’ll jump back and go ‘pleh pleh’ and you can return to your status quo of paid friend after a suitable period of weirdness, or maybe he’ll smooch you back, and then you can lose your re-virginity and afterward you’ll have a rich boyfriend who’ll work some other magical solution out for you.”

“Lose my _what_.”

“It’s definitely been so long since you got laid that your virginity grew back.”

Poor Baekhyun. He always seemed to forget that Minseok knew all the places where he hated to be pinched.

“You’re horrible.”

“That is what everyone tells me, and yet you all keep inviting me back. Bunch of masochists, obviously.”

“Baek. What if he just up and runs off for good? Then I don’t have a paid friend, or a regular friend, _or_ a boyfriend.”

“Yeah. That’s the risky part.”

So that didn’t answer anything, but it helped a little to say it out loud. Maybe.

He met Jongdae for lunch the next day and blushed under Jongdae’s enthusiasm for the slightness of his limp. Jongdae’s energy level was off the charts: he talked a kilometer a second about everything under the sun, and a smile constantly hovered on his lips. He kept grabbing Minseok’s wrist and standing close.

It made Minseok feel a little crazy. Was this flirting? Should he flirt back?

He knew all about the movies and games Jongdae liked, his favorite color and his favorite restaurant. He knew what Jongdae thought about the government and how much he liked autumn. That he didn’t believe in ghosts, shamans, or monsters but he hoped God was real. That he wasn’t afraid of heights but he was creeped out by public bathrooms.

He did not, however, know Jongdae’s age or surname. His hometown, or anything about his family. Or exactly what he did for a living. Or why he was so hesitant to talk about those things.

What was the line past which you really knew someone? Minseok didn’t know.

They got up from the lunch table, and Minseok shook his leg out, tested its ability to bear weight, and it was fine. Jongdae hugged him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, hyung. Sorry I freaked out.”

Well. Just because he was having a minor emotional crisis over all of this was no excuse to deny himself the enjoyment of pulling Jongdae close.

“You took great care of me, thank you,” he murmured.

Jongdae shivered before he stepped back. His cheeks were pink and his eyes wide, and boy, did that make Minseok wonder in a hopeful sort of way.

“I’ll be pretty scarce for a while, hyung,” Jongdae said when they parted. “Big work project starting tomorrow.”

“Should I text you reminders to sleep? Or is it so bad that you need reminders to drink water and actually move around a little?”

Jongdae grinned.

“Probably the latter. But don’t go to any trouble. I’ll just work really fast to get it done so we can have dinner after.”

Minseok tugged on Jongdae’s sleeve.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I bug my friends all the time, don’t think you’re going to get out of it.”

Jongdae made a quiet little smile at the ground that melted Minseok’s heart into a puddle of goo. Maybe a break was a good thing so he could get his mental act together.

His giant payment from Jongdae had put him a little ahead financially, so Minseok went back to his bus-and-work-filled lifestyle without worrying. He endured the ribbing from his retired ladies about how they liked Jongin better because he was a softer touch and let them get away with chatting instead of stretching. He endured an entire shift of Kibum’s gimlet stare, until Kibum was satisfied that Minseok’s knee was okay. He agreed to take on two more tutoring students in preparation for mid-terms.

And on one bus ride between jobs, he was delighted to find that Cat Farm had been updated.

His reminder texts to Jongdae tended to go unanswered until the middle of the night, so he woke up every morning with even more texts than usual. The ones from his night-owls, Chanyeol and Baekhyun, didn’t inspire dorky smiles, though.

A week and a half into Jongdae’s “big work project,” Minseok’s main complaint about life was that he was starting to think that Jongdae’s face couldn’t possibly be as cute as he was remembering, so his crush was probably just him being dumb. Therefore, when he and Chanyeol took a day to cook up a bunch of portable food for their busy schedules, it seemed like a great idea to text Jongdae and see whether he wanted surprise friend-lunch. If the key-smashing was any indication, Jongdae also agreed that it was great.

Minseok didn’t have to go all the way to the business district very often. A long bus ride netted him yet another new cat on his farm (Pettie Furr, who brought with her tiny cakes). Nice.

Jongdae had told him to wait in the lobby, but it was a stranger who approached him: about his size, with a serious expression and large, round eyes.

“Minseok-hyung?”

“Um, yes?”

The man grinned, and it transformed his face so entirely into sweetness that Minseok wanted to pinch his cheek.

“I’m the admin in Jongdae’s department. Kyungsoo. He asked me to bring you up.”

Wow, fancy.

“How did you know who I was?”

“Oh, we’ve all heard an _extensive_ description, hyung. Though until this morning, we all called you ‘toast hyung,’ because he wouldn’t tell us your name. The toast was great, by the way, I keep lobbying for a scheduled daily delivery. Is your knee better?”

It took a second for Minseok to recover from his surprise sufficiently to say yes.

“I’ve got a card for the toast truck,” he said when they were on the elevator.

“Oh, please give it to me, Jongdae’s terrible with details that aren’t code-related.”

A corporate account was Kibum’s dream. Maybe he’d get a raise.

Kyungsoo had to use a badge to get them to the elevators, and again to call up the correct floor on the elevator, and then again at the glass doors to the office suite. Seemed like a lot of security. Kyungsoo led him through a maze of cubicles and offices to the far corner, where a men’s formalwear model, apparently, was standing in the doorway. He introduced himself as Joonmyun, which name Minseok was sure he’d heard before.

“It’s nice to have backup feeding Jongdae when he’s on a bender,” he said. “Usually Soo and I tag team it, which gets tedious.”

“The scent of pizza gets pervasive after about the fourth order,” Kyungsoo said.

“Anyhow, nice to meet you finally, toast-hyung,” Joonmyun said.

Minseok peered into the room when they walked away; Jongdae sat in front of a whole array of computer monitors, with about four keyboards, two to of which had weird-looking controls, a couple of joysticks, and wires everywhere. A couple of piles of bedding were jammed up against the back corner, and the trash can was stacked with takeout coffee cups.

In any other office suite, this would’ve been the executive’s office, with its two walls of windows and view of the river. As it was, it kind of looked like a campsite at the end of a long weekend. The man sitting next to Jongdae looked up, then tugged on his arm.

Jongdae looked even more tired than he had the day at the toast truck, but his smile was so bright that Minseok learned immediately how his memory was stupid and Jongdae was even cuter than was generally allowed by normal human beings.

His crush grew three sizes, all at once. And then another half-size when Jongdae hugged him.

“Hyung! I can’t believe you brought me food, I’m nominating you as a cultural treasure.”

“I don’t think spicy beef noodles and some soup qualify, but thanks.”

“Hyung, come meet my partner Yixing.”

Minseok learned what it felt like to be a snowman in the sun as he shook the hand of the taller, handsome, dimpled person from the chair beside Jongdae’s.

Partner.

Okay.

Sure.

He could deal with that.

It was kind of weird that Jongdae had made it sound as if he was super lonely and had had miserable romantic experiences, but sure. Partners needed to have lives of their own, it was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine.

“Wow, I shouldn’t have made fun of you, Dae,” Yixing said. “Homemade lunch!”

“I’m sorry, if I’d known I would’ve brought enough for you as well,” Minseok said.

Yixing waved his hand.

“Nah, it’s my fault for not putting out my own ad.”

“You were going to put out an ad specifying a girl friend, Xing,” Jongdae said. “And then probably get arrested for attempted sex trafficking, given the way you phrase things. Sorry, man, but I can’t have my partner in jail when we have a launch in two months.”

“Oh _work_ partner,” Minseok said while Yixing rolled his eyes.

Jongdae tilted his head to one side.

“Yeah, of course.”

Then he grinned broadly and held the bag of food to his chest.

“Must’ve missed me a lot, hyung, to come all this way just to bring me lunch.”

His eyebrows bobbed up and down. Minseok wrinkled his nose over his own smile.

“Not one bit. Cat Farm updated, I’ve been busy.”

“WHAT?” Yixing shrieked.

It was always nice to meet another feline aficionado.

“A huge update! It's super fun, the puns are worse than ever.”

“Cat Farm updated!” Yixing yelled. “Oh my god!”

He dashed out of the room, his high-pitched laugh still echoing off the windows.

“I can’t tell whether he’s a fan or not.”

Jongdae sighed heavily.

“He’s probably running off to tell everyone about it.”

“I wouldn’t think a bunch of tech people would like such a low-key little game.”

“Soo says the best thing about it is that you get all the cute without any hairballs.”

Minseok laughed. And he tricked Jongdae into eating by sitting next to him showing off all the new cats and cat-related doodads on his farm, until all the containers were empty. Jongdae was really nice about putting up with all his chattering about the cats and their gifts and toys.

“I like that one,” he said about Catosaurus Rex, a curly-haired cat in a little dino onesie.

“Because you’re a man of discerning taste, which is obviously why you picked my friend application out of the pile,” Minseok said.

He meant it to sound like a joke, but it was an absolutely terrible thing to say sitting 7 cm away from Jongdae’s face. Especially since he was either delusional or Jongdae’s eyes flicked down to his mouth briefly before he blushed.

He probably was delusional, right? Jongdae looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his eyes probably dropped downward because he didn’t have any energy to keep them raised. That was the whole point of this paid-friend thing, to keep clear boundaries. Jongdae had been clear about that at the beginning.

Minseok beat his crush back with a stick. The moment drew out into awkwardness, and Jongdae sat up straighter.

“Oh, hyung, you should let me update your phone after that data breach.”

“The patch from that famous programmer guy? Baekhyun already loaded it. He made a big thing of updating everyone’s phones at dinner one Wednesday.”

“He did?”

Minseok couldn’t imagine why that would make Jongdae’s voice so squeaky.

“Yeah, something about how that guy really knows his stuff. Thanks, though. I’m still in awe of the password vault, it makes everything so easy.”

Jongdae nodded and rubbed his hand over his head.

“I’ll let you get back to work during normal working hours,” Minseok said. “In the vain hope that maybe you’ll sleep some later.”

Jongdae narrowed his eyes.

“I could pull up some scientific papers about how well-rested brains are smarter brains,” Minseok said.

Jongdae laughed.

“Okay, hyung, I promise to take a nap later.”

“And tell me if you want me bring lunch by again, I have a few days where I’m not busy in the mid-afternoons.”

A whole series of expressions crossed Jongdae’s face, until finally he nodded with a little smile. He walked Minseok out through the maze of cubicles and glass. They passed Kyungsoo, who shook Minseok’s hand with a broad grin. Jongdae hugged him swiftly at the elevator.

“Thanks again, hyung.”

The next morning, Kibum waited by the toast truck instead of Haechan, eyes narrowed.

“Kim Minseok what have you done?”

“I have no idea.”

Kibum held out a sheet of paper that appeared to be a contract for a substantial delivery to Beongae, Ltd., 3 days per week.

Why’s this my fault?” he asked.

“The man on the phone mentioned you by name.”

Minseok examined the contract more closely, and saw that the address was Jongdae’s office building.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Kibum hugged him.

“You’re assistant manager,” he said. “I’m raising your pay. Also, you’ll have to come in an hour earlier to meet this order three days a week.”

No blessing came without a price, Minseok supposed.

The raise was good, though, given how Jongdae was in the wind. Minseok’s tutoring kids had done well enough on their midterms that he got three cash tips and one gift set of beef, and then they all requested a couple of weeks off to rest their brains. Channie put the beef to good use for two Wednesday dinners, and Minseok caught up on his hangout time with Baek – meaning, he lay around on Baek’s sofa reading ahead in his tutoring kids’ curriculum while Baek swore at his computer.

“You just make it all look so fun,” Minseok laughed after Baekhyun had thrown his headphones across the room and flopped to the floor groaning.

Baek stuck out his tongue.

“Don’t mock what you don’t understand, hyung. I have to level up as much as possible, there’s a rumor on the message boards that there’s a surprise Fallen Necromancer update coming soon.”

“Ah,” Minseok said.

Baekhyun laughed.

“See? You have no idea what I’m talking about, when everybody in the world plays that game, literally. That guy who wrote the banking patch for our phones, it’s one of his games, he’s a freaking genius.”

“Oh!” Minseok said. “My friend wanted to install that patch too.”

“Gotta take care of hyung,” Baekhyun said.

He missed Jongdae, though, while at the same time being exasperated with himself for how much of his missing was the mushy, romantic type, which wasn’t helpful to anybody, least of all Jongdae. Which didn’t stop him from picking up right away when Jongdae called, despite being in the middle of a set on a leg curl machine.

“Hyung, why are you short of breath?”

“Working out.”

“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt,” Jongdae said.

“It you were interrupting, I wouldn’t have answered,” Minseok said. “I’m hoping you called because you have time to get together.”

Was that too much? Screw it, it was the truth.

“I – yeah,” Jongdae said.

He sounded so happy about it. Minseok took a minute to remind himself to get a grip.

“Awesome,” Minseok said. “I don’t have anything going on for the rest of the day, what are you thinking?”

“Can we do something low-key? I need to see somebody other than my coworkers, but I’m tired as hell, is that too boring?”

“Jongdae. You know hyung is extremely boring.”

He laughed, but Minseok could hear the fatigue in it.

“Takeout and movies on your massive TV?”

Jongdae tried half-heartedly to argue for something more exciting, and then a little more forcefully to come pick him up, but Minseok put his older age and greater state of wakefulness to good use, and within the hour he was climbing out of the subway near Jongdae’s building. It was too early for the nightclubs to be open, but the streets were full of tourists failing to pay attention to their surroundings. A decent violinist was busking on one corner.

Jongdae met Minseok at the elevator on his floor. His face was pale and dry-looking. Minseok had a moment of appreciation that even if he had a hundred jobs, he pretty much never looked like he was on the verge of collapse from them. Minseok hugged him, and Jongdae leaned against him briefly, warm, his breath against Minseok’s neck. Minseok tried to keep his sigh silent and his hands from wandering.

“I decided I deserved a really good dinner, I hope you don’t mind steak, hyung.”

“Oh gee, I guess not,” Minseok said, and returned Jongdae’s eventual smile.

He wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but it tasted good with the steak. They put on a decade-old animated film, after Jongdae’s stammering excuses, until Minseok flicked his knee.

“You want something that’s not challenging. I get it.”

Like he had at Jongdae’s office (like he did when Baek was freaking out about his mysterious online life, or Jongin fretted about an upcoming show, or Sehun got to worrying about his future), Minseok chatted at Jongdae to keep him distracted enough to eat. He talked about his earlier mornings making up the toast delivery, which made Jongdae laugh and tell him about which varieties were most popular around the office. He talked about how well his tutoring kids had done on their midterms, and how he was currently trying to dredge up everything he’d ever learned about chemistry and civics. By the time he got to how he’d cadged guest passes from Sehun for the fancy gym he went to and Nini from the student rec center at his school, Jongdae had long finished eating and was blinking at him slowly, already starting to lean over.

“What do you need guest passes for, hyung,” he mumbled.

Minseok could’ve let him lean away. Maybe that was the wise decision. But he hadn’t seen Jongdae in 2 weeks, and suffering was supposed to build character, right? He put his feet up on the coffee table and tugged (meeting no resistance) until Jongdae lay with his head on Minseok’s leg.

“Trying to keep my knee healthy,” he said.

He smoothed his hand repeatedly down Jongdae’s arm, smooth and slow.

“I usually work out at the retirement center, but they don’t have much by way of machines. When I’m rehabbing, the machines make everything easier.”

Jongdae hummed – a sleepy but irritated sound. Minseok kept rubbing his arm. Told himself he was a stupid jackass, and put his other hand in Jongdae’s hair anyway.

Jongdae sighed and snuggled down onto his leg. Minseok rubbed lightly at his scalp and felt Jongdae relax by degrees, then sat to watch the rest of the movie while the person he most wanted to kiss and absolutely couldn’t kiss slept in his lap.

Any of his other friends he’d jostle until they were just awake enough to brush their teeth and change clothes, and then he’d lie down with them. Chanyeol always wanted to be the little spoon, which was always funny. Jongin was a back sleeper, and Minseok was a side sleeper, so they could snooze very comfortably when Minseok tucked himself up against Nini’s side. Sehun fretted as much in his sleep as he did awake, and was only still if one held him tight. Baekhyun didn’t care what the configuration was, as long as full-body snuggling was involved.

It was definitely a bad idea to sit with his hand in Jongdae’s hair and wonder what it would be like to sleep next to him. It was a tremendously bad idea to pay attention to how lean Jongdae’s arm was under his sweater and how thick his hair was, how sharp the curve of his cheekbone looked from above.

Jongdae hadn’t seemed uncomfortable to learn that Minseok was gay. But he also hadn’t ever offered up his own preferences. Even if he wasn’t the paid friend, that reason alone was enough that Minseok needed to master himself, to stop this foolish mooning.

And he would. But first, he kissed two fingers and laid them on Jongdae’s cheek, let his hand rest there, curved around Jongdae’s face. Just once.

When the movie ended, he shook Jongdae’s shoulder gently, until Jongdae grumbled and sat up.

“Sorry, hyung.”

“Sorry for what? Getting some rest? Only be sorry if you don’t go straight to bed and get some more.”

Jongdae was too sleepy to argue effectively, and his half-lidded eyes and pout did nothing to help Minseok be less dumb. The way he let Minseok boss him into washing up while Minseok cleaned up from dinner made an unfortunate set of other ideas in Minseok’s troublesome brain, wondering in what other circumstances he might enjoy be bossed around.

“You should stay, hyung,” Jongdae said, wearing pajamas that looked like they were 2 sizes too big, hair falling over his eyes.

Minseok was so, so tempted.

No. He wasn’t tempted. He _wanted_. He wanted to stay. He wanted to climb into Jongdae’s bed with him and hold him until morning. And then make them both very late to work.

He settled for a hug instead.

“Nope, I have to make toast early in the morning,” he said. “Somebody’s admin made a big standing order.”

“Kyungsoo’s fired,” Jongdae mumbled with his hands clutching the back of Minseok’s shirt.

“You’re fired if you don’t go back to sleep.”

“You can’t fire me, hyung, I’m the one paying.”

That was the problem, wasn’t it? But Jongdae slouched off to his room, and Minseok went home, where he didn’t find much by way of sleep, but he did find a black cat named Hallow Evie who had a packet of pumpkin seeds, which livened up his little cartoon farm.

Another month went by that way: Minseok would go without hearing from Jongdae for days at a time, and then Jongdae would reach some limit of exhaustion, or be sent home by Joonmyun, and Minseok would go over to eat a meal, watch half a movie, and metaphorically poke himself in the heart with a fork when Jongdae inevitably fell asleep on him, with his dumb cute face and soft hair and state of total unavailability.

Minseok never said no, though. He just bore the snuggling and went home to lie face-down on his bed pulling at his own hair with frustration – in lieu of pulling any other parts of his body, which he knew from experience would just create a spiral of vivid images in his brain that only made things worse.

“What would you say if I wanted to go out clubbing with you this weekend?”

Baekhyun squinted at him.

“I’d say your crush on your friend must be pretty bad.”

Minseok sighed.

“Poor hyung. But you’re still not allowed to go clubbing with me. You always stand in the corner looking miserable, and then I feel bad, and it kills my vibe. You know you hate crowds almost as much as you hate kissing total strangers.”

“Argh,” Minseok said to the ceiling.

“I’m telling you, just smooch the guy.”

Minseok glared at him.

“Or don’t and keep suffering, you get to make your own choices,” Baekhyun said, smart enough to do so while dancing backwards out of arm’s reach.

He went to Chanyeol’s house in the hope of less troublesome advice.

“Speaking philosophically, as a person who never wants to exchange bodily fluids with anybody ever, I think Baekhyun’s right.”

Minseok, from his spot leaning against Chanyeol’s chest, considered all the places within reach that he could effectively hit. It must’ve shown, because Chan hugged him.

“Aw, Minseokkie-hyung, I don’t mean you should just kiss him. But you should tell him how you feel. This is a big crush, hyung! It’s not like the little thing you had for me for ten minutes, or the week and a half that you thought Jongin was the prettiest person alive.”

“Jongin is the prettiest person alive, though.”

“Don’t change the subject. I get that it’s weird because he pays you, but you keep saying that you’re really friends, and friends talk to each other.”

It was so terrible to be friends with relatively well-adjusted adults.

“I’m afraid to lose him, though.”

“You didn’t lose any of us, hyung.”

But Minseok could hardly launch into that conversation when the next time Jongdae called, because he started off with,

“I don’t suppose you’d like to go with me to Greece?”

Minseok replayed the question in his mind to make sure he’d heard it correctly.

“Greece on the other side of the planet, Greece?”

“Yeah, I’ve gone there a couple of times in the past few years. I stay in this nice little place where every room has its own tiny pool, and I lie around in the sun and read books and eat a bunch of grilled squid and watch the sun rise over the Mediterranean. It’s really beautiful, hyung, and you work so hard too, won’t you come with me?”

Minseok had never been to Greece, but the image of Jongdae lying around in the sun was _very_ vivid in his mind. Traveling together. Floating in warm water in their swim trunks. Rubbing sun cream on one another’s backs, eating dinners by candlelight as they looked out across the sea …

“But I hate squid,” he said helplessly, while his brain continued to feed him a torrent of romantic and half-naked images.

“They eat a lot more than just squid in Greece, Minseok-hyung,” Jongdae said, sounding slightly exasperated.

And it really just made things worse to hear Jongdae say his name.

He couldn’t go on vacation with Jongdae. He’d fall to pieces. The romantic seaside view would send all his intelligence fleeing, and he’d drink too much and make a deeply embarrassing speech about wanting to put his lips all over Jongdae’s face and also the rest of him. And then they’d be stuck in freaking Greece for the rest of the trip, unable to even look at each other, and he’d return to Korea down one job, one friend, and one crush after missing however many days of work, with a bank account crying in pain.

“I can’t take that much time off,” he said.

“I’m gonna pay you, hyung! We’d have so much fun, there’s a volcano we could climb, and you can ride donkeys, and there are about a thousand tiny little museums, and we could go fishing – “

It sounded blissful.

“I can’t, Jongdae. I’ve got too many people counting on me, and that due date on my loans comes around every month no matter what I’m doing. You should definitely go, though, I know you need the rest.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Jongdae sounded so sad that Minseok almost relented. But he took the safer option and suggested dinner instead.

Over the next few meals and phone calls, Minseok succeeded in convincing Jongdae to take his vacation, and Jongdae, despite mighty efforts, did not succeed in convincing Minseok to change his mind.

“Why not take Yixing with you?”

“Xing and I are so tired of looking at each other, there’s no way. Besides, his vacations are always home to his family’s house.”

“Kyungsoo? Joonmyun?”

“Soo’s fun to travel with, actually,” Jongdae said. “But he’s got a girlfriend, they just moved in together. And Joon just got back from Europe a couple of months ago, I could never convince him to take another vacation.”

Ugh, the mental image of lonely Jongdae picked at his natural tendency toward (a) guilt and (b) wanting to fix things. But he remained firm. No, a tendency toward firmness was the issue. He remained steadfast.

“Thankfully you already know you can have a good time there on your own,” he said.

“I guess.”

Jongdae was quiet for a while after that, peeling the label off his beer bottle and frowning at their bar snacks.

“Hyung, how come your family doesn’t help out with your debt?”

“They would if I’d let them,” Minseok said. “I’d still be working my ass off, though, there’s not a lot they can contribute. They run a little seafood market in Guri. Money never seemed tight when I was growing up, but I could see how much it strained them when I was in college. My sister’s quite a bit younger, and she – Jongdae, she’s so great. She’s so smart that she makes me look like a tree stump. She needs their help right now. I don’t begrudge a bit of it, I would never want to make things difficult for her. They were absolutely there for me when I needed it. My dad came down and stayed here while I was in the hospital, lived with me in my apartment for the first month until everybody trusted that I could get up and down the stairs safely. But I got injured on my own, and I’ll pay it off on my own.”

Jongdae stared at him.

“I was expecting a sad story,” he said.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Minseok said with a grin. “My family’s great. You know, aside from feeding me so much squid when I was little that I hate it now.”

“Oh,” Jongdae said, and made his own grin finally. “I see. I should blame them for you not going with me to Greece.”

“Sure, them and my expensive right knee,” Minseok laughed.

There was another whirlwind with Jongdae’s project, another set of evenings at Jongdae’s apartment with an exhausted friend. Minseok found that he never built up a tolerance for Jongdae sleeping on him: every single time it made him want to clutch at his own hair just so he would remember to keep his hands (and his mouth) to himself. Every time, Jongdae tried to get him to sleep over, and Minseok was only able to consistently turn him down because it was the only way to lessen the itch in his hands.

This whole thing was beyond a crush. It was definitely full-blown like. He would definitely have to talk to Jongdae about it once he got back from Greece. And hope for the best.

It was annoying few weeks, though, because first Jongdae’s project finished, and he disappeared for 2 solid days of sleep. Then he left for Greece. Then Baek’s game thing updated, and he disappeared too.

“Poor hyung, stuck with the backup squad,” Sehun said.

Minseok would’ve pounded on him a little, but Sehun had already announced his intention to pay for breakfast, so beating him up would’ve been rude. Anyhow, it _had_ been a while since Minseok had spent a lot of time with Sehun and Jongin, and doing so was never bad. He caught up on his backlog of cleaning, farmed some cats, and woke up each morning to a huge number of pictures that, if they were intended to make him annoyed with himself for passing up on a free trip to Greece, worked. It was really, really beautiful.

Jongdae didn’t send any shirtless selfies, the jerk, but he had really cute little feet.

Baekhyun hit the mandated 48-hour period of not answering texts, and Minseok went over to his house armed with bottles of juice and bowls of noodles to find Baek with bloodshot eyes and greasy hair, grinning at his computer with all the blinds shut and the lights off, even though it was 10:00 a.m.

“Shower,” he said.

“Hyung, let me finish this – “

“I will throw you in, I’ve done it before.”

Baekhyun sat back and glared at him. Minseok watched him remember that he had a body, and realize that said body was cramped and gross. Baek shook out his hands.

“Man. I might have to ratchet the time down to thirty-six hours,” he said. “I feel like I just thawed from a hundred years in a block of ice.”

Minseok had to laugh at how much it was like the past couple of months with Jongdae. Baek emerged from the shower to plow through his bowl of noodles and half of Minseok’s, talking at top speed the whole time about undead armies and neat new weapons and some kind of “magic engine” that did a bunch of stuff Minseok didn’t understand. And then, very abruptly, he leaned over and passed out.

Minseok tucked a pillow under his head, covered him and the computer monitor with blankets, and let himself out.

On the day before Jongdae was due to leave Greece, Sehun got his promotion. They were in the middle of a very loud, very happy, very drunken dinner at a grill restaurant when Minseok’s phone buzzed in his pocket. The alert was from the hospital, so Minseok shook his head hard to clear it and opened the message.

He shook his head again.

“Nini, you’re sober, aren’t you?”

“Yes, hyung, I had my one beer.”

“Will you read this message?”

Jongin read the message and turned wide eyes on him.

“Minseok-hyung!”

Jongin handed the phone to Chanyeol, who dropped his soju glass into the stewed kimchi, then passed the phone to Sehun, who punched Baekhyun in the arm twice and handed the phone over.

“We are pleased to inform you that, owing to a generous donation, all medical debt at this hospital has been absolved. If you have not received a statement from your bank stating a zero remaining balance within fourteen business days, please contact us at the number below,” Baekhyun read.

“Hyung!” Jongin said.

Minseok didn’t have a single solitary thought anywhere inside his head.

“Hey, turn up the TV,” one of the restaurant’s other patrons shouted.

“… profits from presales of their newest release, Fallen Necromancer: The Undead Rise, to pay off medical debts at hospitals throughout Seoul. ChenLay Studios has a long history of major philanthropic projects associated with game releases, but this is by far their largest project to date. When asked for a statement,”

“Oh my god,” someone in the restaurant shouted.

Minseok looked over, and they were staring at their phone, looking about as stunned as he felt. Two tables over, a woman stared at her phone and started to cry.

That seemed like a good idea.

“Minseok,” Baekhyun said.

Minseok looked over at him, his bright grin and swimming eyes.

“It’s real?”

Baekhyun nodded.

“Hyung!” Jongin shouted and threw arms around his waist from behind.

Minseok hardly knew what to do with himself for the rest of the evening. The entire restaurant was loud with everyone’s joy. There wasn’t a single moment when he didn’t have someone’s arm around his waist, and they plied him with so many drinks that Chanyeol carried Minseok home on his back.

And when Minseok woke in the morning, wearing one of Chan’s huge t-shirts and with the scent of hangover soup wafting in from the kitchen, the message was still there in Minseok’s email, still real.

It wasn’t easy to maintain his composure on the phone with his parents, less so still when he called his sister. So when Chanyeol pulled him into a hug the instant he ended the call, Minseok had to take a minute to cling and sniffle and try to make the knowledge stick in his head.

He floated through the day, distracted constantly because the story was all over every news screen everywhere. It was the talk of the retirement center, lots of children and grandchildren with good news. His tutoring kids only cared that he was inattentive and easier on them than usual.

Morning hangover and forthcoming toast shift notwithstanding, he texted Baek to meet him at the dingy little bar around the corner from Baekhyun’s building that they’d visited for years.

“That’s your game, right?” he asked when they had bottles in front of them. “The people who made the gift.”

Baekhyun nodded.

“They always do a big thing after a release. Last time they bought computers for every school in the Chinese province where Lay’s from. This is way bigger than anything they’ve ever done before.”

“They’re actual people? Those are their names, ChenLay?”

“Yeah. Pretty young guys, too, around our age. You know how programmers can be, both of them got hired when they were just out of high school. One of them wrote a security algorithm that got bought up by some of the big shopping sites, and the other one pulled the entire online classroom industry forward by like a decade with one release, and then they could write their own tickets. Found some business guys to take care of them and started writing games. All of which have been smash hits, they’re both probably richer than god at this point.”

“How’s that even possible if they’re so young?”

Baekhyun shrugged.

“I mean, they’re geniuses, obviously. And they probably have terrible social skills, because they don’t have a Minseok-hyung to drag them out into the daylight on occasion.”

He leaned over to bump Minseok’s shoulder.

“I just don’t understand why they’d do this.”

“Do you care why?” Baekhyun asks. “And if you do care, why? You’re free, hyung. You can go back to school now. You can maybe work a little less. Why aren’t you more happy?”

“It’s too big,” Minseok said. “My life changed in one second, I don’t know how to process it.”

Baek nodded.

“How about this, then.”

He waved for another round.

“They didn’t start their charity projects until after they started writing games. With their first bunch of projects, the online security and algorithm stuff, they were on celebrity sites all the time, falling out of clubs with like four girls at a time on each arm, crashing cars into light poles and stuff. Typical tech-bro assholes with more money than sense. And then Chen got engaged to this kind of small-time model. Paid for her to get a new chin, a new car, bought her an apartment. Huge-ass engagement ring. And then she showed up at a party one day without the huge engagement ring but with a brand-new husband, the guy who ran a modeling agency she’d been trying to sign with.”

“Gross,” Minseok said.

“Yeah. And just after that, Lay had visa problems for a while and had to go back to China for over a year, where he disappeared off the face of the earth. You’d still see Chen in photos from nightclubs, looking like he was ready to murder half the world. And _then_ he apparently didn’t pay up on some blackmail, because his boyfriend leaked a bunch of nude photos.”

Shit, between this guy and Jongdae, was the entire tech industry full of leeches and assholes?

“What the hell?”

“Right? Don’t get me wrong, hyung, I’m a terrible person, and I totally looked at them.”

Minseok hit him.

“I’ll take that hit without complaining, I deserve it for being gross. Even though that dude is just about the hottest little piece of ass I’ve ever seen next to myself, I would totally get on that given the chance.”

“I’ve always admired your humility,” Minseok said.

Baekhyun grinned.

“Anyway, not long after that Lay’s immigration stuff got sorted out, and the two of them found those business guys and stopped all that rich-guy stuff. No more splashy launches or parties. They just write fun fucking games, and sometimes lurk around message boards in the middle of the night dispensing good advice and helping out gamers stuck on levels and computer science majors who can’t figure out their homework. And they make big charity donations. And I’m really glad you got to benefit from one of them.”

“They went through some stuff and came out the other side wanting to help,” Minseok said.

“Ta da!” Baekhyun said. “Like you, o future physical therapist.”

Minseok didn’t know why Baek saying it that way made the whole thing finally seem real, but it did. He couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night.

He had entrance exams to study for, and registration fees to save up. He’d have to pick a school, and decide whether he’d need to move. And which and how many of his jobs to keep.

The one job he was _not_ going to keep was Jongdae’s paid friend. That job he was going to quit the minute he saw Jongdae, followed shortly thereafter by asking him out on a date, and if the answer was no, hanging around until they stayed friends anyway.

But, floating on a cloud several kilometers up on pure excitement, Minseok was feeling pretty good about his chances for that date.

Kim Minseok might’ve been hapless when it came to banking apps and video games, but he was an expert when it came to public transportation. Many years of studies and multiple jobs had given him the ability to incorporate information from the bus app and the traffic app to predict arriving at his destination within a 3-minute window – barring wrecks, of course.

Given that he had set up an alert for when Jongdae’s flight landed and searched how long people in first class generally took getting through customs, Minseok was able to work it out that he waited for less than 5 minutes outside Jongdae’s building before a taxi pulled up and Jongdae stepped out.

Minseok had put a little effort into his hair before he left the toast truck in its parking spot and changed into clothes not covered in cinnamon sugar and sloshed latte. Worn the black jacket that always made Jongin cling to his arm.

Jongdae was wearing what looked like really expensive pajamas, hair all over the place, glowing with a tan. Obviously in his own world, dragging two suitcases with headphones in, frowning to himself a little.

Minseok would step into his path if needed. But he wanted to see whether Jongdae would look up and notice him. Meanwhile, he watched Jongdae, how he carried a bubble of solitude around himself. The way his small hands wrapped around the suitcase handles.

The way his mouth dropped open when he looked up and saw Minseok leaning against a planter.

The way his smile was bright enough to light up the sky.

Minseok felt his heart flop over.

“Hyung?”

“Hey.”

“How did you get here?”

Minseok hugged him before that sentence was all the way out, not even bothering to pretend that he wasn’t trying to pull Jongdae as close as possible.

“Welcome back,” he murmured into Jongdae’s ear, and Jongdae’s arms tightened across his back.

Minseok held on until he felt Jongdae shift.

“You probably got breakfast on the plane, but it’s not as good as toast and my coffee,” he said. “Got some time? I want to hear all about your trip.”

“Hyung,” Jongdae said, sounding happy, looking happier. “Yeah, absolutely.”

Jongdae kept turning around to look at him as they walked into the building, grinned the whole way up in the elevator.

“I can’t believe you came to meet me.”

“I missed you,” Minseok said.

Going for broke was totally worth it, just to see how Jongdae’s smile went so wide that his eyes disappeared into crescents. Minseok felt like he was floating in mid-air.

Jongdae hugged him again the second they were inside the door. Minseok’s friends were all noticeably taller – he enjoyed how he could comfortably put his chin on Jongdae’s shoulder. He enjoyed the implications of how their bodies would line up if they were naked.

“Are you going to think I’m a total barbarian if I leave my suitcases in the hall so I can get to that toast faster?”

“I am not,” Minseok laughed.

They sat knee-to-knee on the sofa, drinking tepid coffee and eating cold toast, while Jongdae regaled Minseok with the story of his hideously long flight and showed off fuzzy pictures of Russia taken from the plane window. He was so animated, and every couple of minutes he’d repeated his disbelief that Minseok had come to meet him.

Minseok’s cheeks ached from smiling.

“Hyung. I’m glad to be home,” Jongdae said when the toast and his story were done.

“Me too,” Minseok said. “I’ve got something to ask you.”

Jongdae’s eyebrows jumped up when Minseok took his hand.

“First of all. Jongdae. I quit.”

He held on tight when Jongdae tried to pull his hand away and laid his fingers against Jongdae’s forehead in a gentle parody of a smack. Because of course Jongdae assumed the worst immediately. Minseok was so tempted to jump straight to the kissing part.

“I don’t want you to pay me anymore. I want everything to be easy and normal between us. Because I’m also hoping that you’ll let me take you out.”

Jongdae blinked at him, then shook his head like a wet dog.

“I’m not a rich tech guy, so it won’t be fancy, but I want to take you out, Jongdae. On a date.”

“You do?”

Minseok nodded. His confidence faltered for a second, and he looked down at their interlaced fingers.

“If you want to. If you’re even into guys. If, uh, you’re not, then I’ll let go of your hand and maybe we can still be friends anyway?”

Jongdae laughed.

“I’m occasionally into guys,” he said. “Pretty much a whole lot into you.”

Minseok took that as a sign that it was okay to move straight to the kissing. Jongdae sighed against his lips. Minseok finally got to curve his palms against that strong chin. Finally got to taste that perpetual smile. Jongdae’s mouth was soft against his, and he sagged in Minseok’s hold, making himself smaller.

“Hyung,” he whispered when Minseok slid his mouth down to nip at Jongdae’s jaw.

He had one hand in Minseok’s hair and shuddered when Minseok lipped at his earlobe.

“Please tell me this is a yes about that date.”

Jongdae laughed again, hugged him close. When he sat back, his cheeks were flushed and his mouth red; Minseok couldn’t wait to get back to it.

“Of course it is, what got into you, hyung?”

Minseok kissed him softly, nuzzled against his cheek.

“I had some really good news,” he said.

“Oh, already?” Jongdae said.

Drunk on kissing-induced oxytocin, it took Minseok a second. He was mid-nuzzle when Jongdae’s question made it all the way into his brain.

“What does that mean?” he asked, sitting back.

Jongdae turned bright red and stared at his knees.

“Jongdae. How did you know about my good news?”

A background check before they knew each other, Minseok could forgive, but Jongdae wouldn’t possibly have continued to keep tabs without saying anything, would he?

“Uh. I’m - Chen?” Jongdae said.

And that took Minseok another minute, because he’d been thinking of the whole thing as a single “ChenLay” entity, and he couldn’t have foreseen this in a hundred years, and how could a coincidence so unlikely -

Oh.

“You paid off my debt,” he said.

“I, uh.” Jongdae said. “I was really upset that you couldn’t go to Greece with me? You deserve a vacation, hyung, just as much as I do! So I - “

The fury that thundered in Minseok’s ears must’ve shown on his face, because Jongdae stopped and chewed at his bottom lip.

“Go on,” Minseok said, hearing the chill in his tone.

“I didn’t know which hospital,” Jongdae said. “And Xing and I hadn’t decided on our charity project yet, I was telling him about it - “

Minseok took a long, slow, not-at-all-calming breath.

“- and he was like, why don’t we just pay them all off, we both have more money than we could spend in two lifetimes, there have to be lots of people like you who have dreams and stuff they can’t do because they’re - “

Minseok held up one hand.

Jongdae stopped speaking.

“How many people, exactly, in your office know about my money troubles?”

Jongdae opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Minseok waited.

“My whole team?”

Minseok stood.

“You didn’t sign a non-disclosure agreement,” he said, “so I guess I have no real grounds for complaint. But I find this _rich_ , Jongdae, that you thought it was okay to talk about my bank account and medical history to people I don’t know when you've never even told me your surname or how old you are.”

Jongdae made himself noticeably smaller.

“Hyung,” he said softly.

“I need a minute. I’ll call you,” Minseok said on his way out.

He started out on the route to Baek’s house – thankfully, Minseok was struck by the mental image of Baek yelling “DUDE your friend is CHEN” and being subjected to half an hour’s worth of shrieking about videogames _before_ the transfer point most convenient to Chanyeol’s place.

“Wow,” Chanyeol said when he opened the door. “Is that scowl for me, or do I go straight for the hug?”

“Hug,” Minseok said.

He was still mad enough to spit nails, but Minseok could think of few circumstances in which he’d turn down a Yeollie-hug.

“What kind of situation is this: tea, beer, or soju?”

“Beer trending toward soju.”

“Yikes, hyung. Have a seat.”

Chanyeol plunked a bottle in front of him, and Minseok took a long swallow. How could he even start? He didn’t _think_ Jongdae would sue him at this point for giving out a few details. On the other hand, a fucking violation of fucking boundaries was the issue, and somebody around here had to take the damn high road.

“Min-hyung, what has you so mad?” Chanyeol asked.

Minseok huffed.

“Turns out my friend is one of the people responsible for paying off all that hospital debt,” he said.

“Oh!” Chanyeol said. “Hang on, your rich tech-guy friend is _that_ rich?”

“Apparently.”

“Wow. How did you find out?”

“Oh, in the context of how he was mad that I couldn’t go on vacation with him, so he wanted to fix things.”

Chanyeol’s mouth dropped open.

“You know, after I kissed him and asked him out on a date after quitting the friend gig, so that everything could be all normal and honest between us.”

Said aloud, that sounded awfully bitter, didn’t it?

“Hyung,” Chanyeol said. “Hang on.”

He pulled out his phone, and after a few seconds of frantic typing, Minseok’s phone buzzed.

“ALL HANDS ON DECK HYUNG HAS A CRUSH CRISIS” read the group chat.

“Channie.”

“Don’t even try to deny it, just be a good hyung and drink your beer,” Chanyeol said while the chat pinged with everyone reporting that they were on their way. Even Sehun – his promotion must’ve come with a little more flexibility in hours.

The problems with this plan were twofold. Waiting for everyone to arrive meant that: (1) Minseok had time to think about how Jongdae had curled into a ball of misery by the time he walked out, and after all that nice kissing, too; and (2) Minseok had time to slam the first beer _and_ the second and be slightly woozily into a third by the time Sehun finally showed up.

Minseok was wedged between Chanyeol and Jongin then, with Baekhyun trying to speak every 2 seconds and being shushed every time. Feeling more stupid and miserable with each passing moment.

And of course, Sehun showed up loaded down with bags: noodles, four different kinds of cookies, and more liquor.

“Good job, Hunnie,” Jongin said.

“What’s my big paycheck for, if not to provide comfort and succor to the only people I don’t hate?” Sehun said.

Minseok took a moment to mash his face against Chanyeol’s armpit.

“Aw, hyung,” Chanyeol said, and squeezed him.

“Okay, what did he do,” Baekhyun asked when everyone was finally settled. “Did he turn you down? Is he not into guys?”

“He didn’t say anything mean, did he? I’ll sneak into his house and put crushed glass in all his shoes,” Sehun said.

“Hunnie, you would never.”

Sehun’s resting face looked like a weary glare, sometimes it was hard to tell whether he meant it.

“I would definitely think about it.”

“He didn’t say anything mean,” Minseok said. “He just. That is.”

How much could he say without saying everything?

“He works for the company that paid off hyung’s debt, so now hyung feels weird,” Chanyeol said.

Okay, that worked.

There was a round of nodding and “oh.”

Baekhyun whistled.

“He must be really good at his job if he works for ChenLay,” he said. “They don’t even hold interviews, they, like, send out corporate espionage ninjas and pick out who they want, call them up, and nobody ever turns them down.”

“That’s a little creepy,” Jongin said. “What if they sent ninjas after Min-hyung?”

“He did a background check,” Minseok said.

Everyone cringed.

“Gross,” Sehun said.

“Nah, they’re just like that,” Baekhyun said. “I dated this girl for a minute and a half who did two days’ worth of backing vocals for a game soundtrack, and even for that she said she spent a whole day signing NDAs and confidentiality agreements.”

Minseok and Sehun stared at one another.

“You date girls?” Sehun asked.

“I like both innies and outies,” Baekhyun said. “Which is totally off-topic to this conversation.”

Chanyeol shuddered. Minseok patted his arm.

“Didn’t those guys have a lot of trouble a few years ago?” Chanyeol said. “Seems like I remember a bunch of scandals that Baek squeaked about.”

“Yeah, if you work this thing out, you can’t ever tell your friend that I spanked it to his boss’s blackmail photos,” Baekhyun said.

There was a pause in the conversation for everyone to throw pillows at/hit Baekhyun.

“Hyung, why are you so gross?” Jongin pleaded.

“You don’t even know a quarter of the trouble Baek Jr. gets me into, because I want to still be invited to Wednesday dinner,” Baekhyun grinned.

Minseok was long used to Baekhyun’s habit of trying to get a rise out of everyone by any means necessary. What was new was this instinct to protect Jongdae from even his own best friend’s prying eyes.

Which was counter-productive to the whole being mad thing.

“Was he weird about the money thing, hyung?” Jongin asked once everyone had settled down.

Minseok wanted to flap his hands around. Maybe even gnash his teeth. Literature wasn’t his strongest subject, so he wasn’t _entirely_ sure how to gnash his teeth, but this seemed like a tooth-gnashing kind of situation.

“I don’t even think he meant to tell me.”

Everybody stared at him, like he was supposed to keep talking. Minseok sighed. Usually he got to be one of the ones pursing their lips and waiting for awkward confessions. He hated this side.

“I _guess_ I’m glad to have found out right away and not later when it might be way more awkward,” he said.

“Of course,” Chanyeol said.

They all stared at him some more. Ugh.

“And it’s just so big, you know?” Minseok said, a little desperately, because even when they were eyes you really liked, eight eyes staring at one all together was seriously disconcerting.

“Like, _my_ old knee injury inspired this whole huge thing? How am I supposed to deal with that? I majored in math and even I can barely think about how much money that is, it’s really intimidating!”

“Sure,” Jongin said.

Jeez, what the hell was it going to take for them to stop staring at him?

Minseok knocked back the soju he didn’t remember being placed in his hand, and a dam burst inside him.

“And it’s just unfair,” he said. “How come he gets to make that decision for me? We had a whole conversation about why I won’t let my parents try to pay for anything, who put him in charge to say that was okay? I’m a grown man, I ought to take care of myself. I don’t need handouts. I don’t need free fucking vacations to goddamn Greece, no matter how beautiful it looks and how many tiny swimming pools and teeny tiny swim trunks might be involved. How the hell is our relationship going to have any kind of normal give and take when I’m the one doing all the taking? I don’t even know his surname! And he’s going to come along and tell everybody he knows about my fucked-up knee and my fucked-up bank account and swoop in like some magical money angel and make everything okay and I should just lie back and take it? That’s not right!”

Jongin patted his shoulder.

“I don’t know what all that meant about Greece and tiny swim trunks, but good job, hyung,” Sehun said. “That was very … expressive.”

Baekhyun opened his mouth, and Chanyeol clapped his hand over it.

“Not one word about hyung lying back and taking anything, Byun Baekhyun,” he growled.

Baek sagged forlornly.

“You’re good to me, Yeollie,” Minseok said.

Everybody took a minute to fortify themselves with more cookies and booze.

“I get why it seems intrusive that your friend did that without saying anything to you, Min-hyung,” Jongin said. “But you know, I keep thinking about how happy everyone was in the restaurant that night, it was really beautiful.”

Minseok had to join in with the nodding at that. It had been, and the next day, too, all his elderly friends at the retirement center so relieved for their younger relatives’ good fortune.

“So you kind of get partial credit for that.”

“No, Nini,” Minseok said.

“And anyway, if he’d asked you beforehand, you’d absolutely have told him no,” Baekhyun said.

Which was correct.

“And then all those other relieved people would still be stressed out and worried like you.”

Minseok gave Baek a weary glare. That was also a correct statement, and playing very dirty on top of it.

“So the question is, are you going to talk to him, or is this so big that you don’t want to see him again?” Chanyeol asked.

Minseok sighed. Even in that first wave of anger, he never really thought it would be the last conversation he’d ever have with Jongdae.

Ugh, more talking.

“Well, bring him to dinner one Wednesday,” Chanyeol said.

It was raining when the group broke up – Baek elected to stay over with Chanyeol, and Sehun drove Jongin and Minseok home. In front of Jongin’s building, watching him punch in the key code, then turn to wave at them while he backed in the door, Sehun said,

“I know you like to be the one taking care of us all the time, hyung. The way you remind us all to eat and rest, and listen to us bitch about our troubles. Making sure Nini never has to speak to a stranger when he can’t find a model, or feeding Vivi when I work late. Even your jobs are all taking care of people. But we like to take care of you too, Min-hyung. We like to give some of that back. Maybe he does too.”

Minseok found that the streetlights looked a little blurry, and he had to clear his throat.

“Thanks, Hunnie.”

When they pulled up to his building, Sehun said,

“I’m surprised to see a Ferrari in this neighborhood.”

The yellow car was parked haphazardly in the street, and a small shadow was huddled in front of the door in the rain.

“Oh,” he said.

Sehun patted his arm.

“Go get him, hyung.”

Walking under his nice, sensible umbrella, Minseok watched Jongdae crouch in front of the door with his arms around his knees and his face hidden. He sat in the very worst possible spot, where runoff from the second-floor windows contributed to all the dripping. Minseok didn’t know when he’d ever seen something so sad. Maybe a wet kitten in an animated movie.

If he hadn’t been a goner for Jongdae’s smile, he’d be a sucker for this display of misery. Luckily (?) he was both.

“All your trillions of won, and you don’t own an umbrella?” Minseok said when Jongdae hadn’t moved.

Jongdae looked up, jumped to his feet, and tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt. Water dripped off the brim of his snapback and off his earlobes. The shoulders of his sweatshirt were dark with wet.

“Hyung,” he said. “I’m sorry. My surname is Kim, I’m twenty-six, my blood type is B, my birthday is September twenty-first, I’m a hundred and seventy-six centimeters tall, my shoe size is two hundred and fifty millimeters, I don’t really like dogs, my favorite color is yellow, I can't get any work done if I don’t have the exact right chair, I have terrible springtime allergies, and I’m slightly allergic to eggplant but I eat it anyway, even though it makes my throat itch.”

All of this was said in such a rush, and so earnestly, with Jongdae’s hands balled up in his own shirt, that Minseok felt briefly light-headed from all the cuteness. He _wanted_ to step forward and wrap Jongdae up in his arms, dripping be damned. But he couldn’t make it that easy.

“You’re a hundred and seventy-four centimeters at best,” he said.

Jongdae gawped at him, then ducked his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered.

Minseok felt as warm and glowy as the truck’s toasters. The door was right behind them and warm, dry clothes three floors up. So he set down his bag of leftovers and his umbrella and gave Jongdae that hug.

Jongdae was shivering, and he could only have been more wet if he were actually in a bathtub. What a dork. Minseok put one hand on the back of Jongdae’s neck and laughed under his breath.

“I’m really sorry,” Jongdae said.

His lips were chilly against Minseok’s neck, and that made Minseok shiver, but not because he was cold.

“Inside,” Minseok said. “When we’re both dry and warm, you can apologize some more.”

Minseok mostly laughed at himself while he bustled around, bossing Jongdae into the bathroom, arms full of pajamas, for a hot shower. He put the leftovers away and mopped the floor dry. Looked up to see Jongdae in his clothes, scrubbing at still-wet hair, and his anger at the money thing seemed very far away.

“Your job while I’m in the shower is to pick out and brew some tea,” he said, opening the cabinet with tea and mugs and brushing past Jongdae’s bemused expression.

Minseok tried not to take too long in the shower, on the off-chance that Jongdae would bolt, but it was really nice to cover his face with his hands and lean against the wall, even if the attempt to regain his equilibrium didn’t succeed. He was glad to see Jongdae standing in front of a couple of mugs in his kitchen, leaning from foot to foot like he didn’t know where to go.

“What are we having?" Minseok called out.

He couldn’t help but grin when Jongdae startled so hard that he briefly lost contact with the floor.

“Chamomile?”

“Great choice,” Minseok said as he picked up one mug, headed toward his table, and pulled out a couple of floor cushions.

He enjoyed watching Jongdae peer around again at his tiny studio apartment and wriggle around on the floor cushion as if he hadn’t sat on one in years. Watched Jongdae look anywhere but at himself, and finally heave a loud breath in the direction of his mug.

“You were right, hyung. I shouldn’t have told everybody your business. I really did just want to help, that thing I said about Greece was me being stupid, it wasn’t just that. And I figured if I asked you about it, you’d tell me no, I got stubborn, nobody ever turns me down when I offer to pay for stuff, I don’t really know how to deal with it, and I’m totally running off at the mouth like a dumbass, I’m just really, really sorry, and I want to make it up to you, but everything I could think of involves expensive gifts, and that would probably just make you more mad, I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do, hyung, and I’ll do it.”

This was going to be a terrible relationship, because Minseok knew he would fall for this pouting-kitten nonsense every single time, and Jongdae would always get his way.

Oh well. Couldn’t be helped.

“First off, you’d better kiss me,” he said.

Jongdae banged his knee on the underside of the table in his surprise. That delayed kissing by a couple of minutes, while Jongdae rubbed his knee and complained, before he shoved the table out of the way and Minseok’s lap was full of dumbass trillionaire, kissing him without preamble.

“Oh crap, I’m not sitting wrong on your knee, am I?” Jongdae asked a little later.

His distress must not have been very acute, given that he didn’t pause in planting little kisses across Minseok’s jaw.

“No, though my foot’s falling asleep.”

Jongdae raised his head and stuck his bottom lip out. Minseok figured he might as well order his own gravestone, this guy was definitely going to kill him.

“I guess I could move,” Jongdae said.

What a brat. Minseok shoved him, then hauled him up and pulled him over toward the bed, where there were covers to burrow under and nobody’s feet would get crunched up during the very much more kissing he had planned.

They lay facing one another with their legs tangled together, and Minseok finally let himself trace all the planes of Jongdae’s face with his fingertips. Jongdae’s eyes were half-lidded, and the curled-up edges of his smile were pronounced. Minseok leaned in and kissed him, feeling the way the unhurried movement of their lips together made him restless for more.

After they talked.

“I signed your NDA several weeks before September twenty-first,” Minseok said.

He watched Jongdae blush, felt Jongdae’s fingers pull at his shirt.

“That was the day we made snow globes,” he said just above a whisper.

Minseok noted for approximately the 400th time that there was no way he was going to survive this thing. He laughed, but he pulled Jongdae against him while he did it.

“How are you so adorable?”

Jongdae made a sound of annoyance but made no effort to free himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Minseok asked.

Jongdae shrugged against him.

“When people know things about you, they can hurt you,” he said.

Minseok tried to hug him closer, but Jongdae rolled back and propped himself up on one elbow.

“Can I ask you something before I tell you something?”

Minseok wrinkled his nose.

“Only if you ask me a little more vaguely.”

Jongdae gave him a light, well-deserved, kick.

“Where’d you go after you left my place?”

“Chanyeol’s house. He took one look at me, put a beer in my hand, and called in the troops for an emergency dinner meeting.”

The light was dim enough in the room that Jongdae’s eyes looked black and sharp, staring steadily at him.

“You talked about me?”

Minseok huffed.

“Jeez, as much as was possible within the bounds of your damn NDA."

Jongdae frowned and tugged at Minseok’s shirt.

“You worry about that still?”

“I don’t really worry that you’d actually _sue_ me, no, especially now that you’ve put your tongue in my mouth,” Minseok said, mostly to watch Jongdae blush, which he did. “But I’m going to respect your privacy, Dae.”

Jongdae grimaced.

“Like I didn’t.”

“Yes,” Minseok said.

He let Jongdae stew for a moment.

“But now you know how I feel about it, right? We’re going to talk about stuff and work things out going forward?”

“You want to go forward, hyung?” Jongdae whispered to the space between them.

“I do.”

Jongdae’s smile was brief, then he clenched his fist in Minseok’s shirt and tucked his head in the crook of his own elbow, not meeting Minseok’s eye.

“Nobody ever turned me down before when I tried to pay for stuff. And even more, I couldn’t believe how you were so, so mad at me, but you weren’t mean about it.”

“Of course I wasn’t,” Minseok said. “Being angry isn’t an excuse to be cruel.”

Bitterness looked all wrong on Jongdae’s face.

It took him several halting tries, but Jongdae told Minseok about his parents, who let him buy them first cars, then an apartment, then a house in Bali, to which they retired, getting in touch only when they wanted something.

“It all seemed really normal at the time, I was still underage, so they had to co-sign everything anyway. But once they got to Bali, it seemed like there never was a good time to visit, and then they were pissed when I turned twenty and took them off my accounts, and. It was just weird.”

Minseok tried to keep his expression neutral, but he curved his hand over the fist clutching his shirt. He fought to not snarl at Jongdae’s stories about his clubbing days, the oceans of liquor and illicit substances, the semi-anonymous sex, with women, with men, “maybe with Yixing? it’s all really fuzzy.”

Minseok, with his love of intimacy, _could_ imagine it, and didn’t enjoy the imagining.

“You’ve been tested, right?”

Jongdae flinched.

“Yeah, repeatedly, hyung. Since the last time I got laid, all good.”

Minseok stroked the top of Jongdae’s hand with his thumb and waited for the rest of it to come out. All the stuff with his fiancée (“I really did think we were in it together, and then she was just gone one day, like I’d dreamed it. Except for the part where she took everything portable and valuable out of my apartment before she changed her own locks.”), all the stuff when Yixing had to leave and he was heartbroken and alone with a business that had been run on adrenaline and hype for several years, and the tax collectors were sniffing around, and he had literally nobody to turn to.

That was the point at which Minseok pulled Jongdae close again. He couldn’t help but compare it to when he’d hurt his knee, just a year or so later, and even though he’d been left with piles of debt, his family and friends had closed ranks around him to get him through recovery, and even afterward, helping him find enough work to keep him afloat. He might’ve been broke, but he’d never been alone.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he said.

Up against his chest, Minseok felt the way Jongdae opened and closed his fist, almost like a cat kneading for comfort. He stroked one hand slowly down Jongdae’s back, over and over.

“I really loved her, hyung. I really thought she wanted me for me.”

Minseok’s opinion was several orders of magnitude less positive.

“It sucks,” he said.

“Yeah. And then I was stupid,” Jongdae said.

Whew, he really was going for full disclosure. Minseok snuggled closer in and tucked Jongdae’s head under his chin. If they kept this going for long enough, some day he’d have to tell Jongdae how proud he was in this moment, how brave Jongdae was being right now.

“I let somebody take pictures of me, hyung,” Jongdae said, almost too softly to be heard, even though their faces were so close.

He was stiff against Minseok’s chest, his wariness as obvious as a stoplight.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Minseok said when the silence had stretched out for longer than he liked. “I’ve posed for Jongin’s photography course plenty of times, and some of them are nudes. I know it’s not the same, but it’s not really _that_ different.”

He was relieved that babbling nonsense seemed to be the right thing to do, because Jongdae tipped his head up to scowl, but he didn’t let go.

“It is when they’re obviously sex pictures, hyung. And when the person who took them is a shithead.”

“I was trying to be all supportive and non-judgmental,” Minseok said, then grinned when Jongdae tried to pinch him but couldn’t get a grip on enough skin.

A benefit of being extremely fit.

“It’s not funny, hyung.”

“I never said it was.”

Jongdae tugged on his shirt.

“You don’t know. It’s not just that the pictures exist. He – and I know you don’t care that it was a guy, but believe me, a lot of people did – he made me pay him so much money, hyung. To keep them secret. And then when I started to talk back, he released them anyway.”

It had been one thing to hear about this when Baek told him. To hear it from Jongdae’s mouth set loose a cold wave that rolled through Minseok such that he had to close his eyes briefly.

“See? I told you it was bad,” Jongdae said.

“Did you report him?” Minseok asked.

“What?”

“Is he in jail?”

“Uh. Yeah,” Jongdae said.

“Good, then I don’t have to kill him,” Minseok said.

Jongdae stared at him.

“And if we’re still dating by the time he gets out, I’ll show up at the prison with a block of poisoned tofu,” Minseok said in the tone that always made Sehun step behind Chanyeol to hide.

That was the end of talking for a bit, though, because Jongdae inhaled sharply, then pretty much attacked him, until Minseok was on his back under the very pleasant assault of Jongdae’s warm mouth on his neck, his thighs under Minseok’s hands, and some really nice minor grinding, the blankets shoved out of the way.

“Why aren’t you more weirded out, hyung?” Jongdae said.

If he was expecting an answer, he shouldn’t have followed it up by sucking on Minseok’s earlobe. But it was kind of hard to keep one’s priorities in order given all the … hardness … going on.

“Weirded out by what? You told me really early on that people had treated you badly. None of that’s your fault. We all trust the wrong person sometimes.”

Jongdae scowled at him.

“Quit being perfect.”

“I’m not perfect,” Minseok said.

He clamped his hands down on Jongdae’s thighs to hold him in place and ground up until he replaced that frown on Jongdae’s face with a gasp.

“I’m an overly romantic sap with way too big a sense of responsibility and a tendency to assume that I should be the one doing all the work in a relationship, which has broken my heart twice and makes Baekhyun yell at me on a regular basis. I care that your privacy got violated and you got hurt. Making a stupid decision doesn’t mean you deserved that.”

“How can you not care that half the internet has seen me naked?”

Minseok stared up at Jongdae's cute, dumb face.

“I guess it is unfair that they got to when I haven’t yet,” he said. “Do you want me to get mad about that, or do you want to stop worrying about it so one of us can get to fucking the other one?”

Jongdae pulled out that thing where he went all melty and small. Minseok was used to that making him want to hold Jongdae close. Now that he didn’t have his crush walled off behind 22 cm of mental steel doors, it also made him want to bite Jongdae, to pin him down and make him writhe.

“You want to fuck me, hyung?” Jongdae murmured, and bit his bottom lip.

Minseok flipped them both, pleased that even after a couple of years since the last time, his body remembered how to make sure that his hand shielded the back of Jongdae’s head from the floor. He settled between Jongdae’s legs and felt the smile on his own face.

“I like it any way I can get it,” Minseok said.

He drew his fingers slowly down the side of Jongdae’s face and neck.

“But yeah, I want to fuck you.”

Jongdae smiled and wriggled against him.

“That’s how you like it?” Minseok asked.

Jongdae’s cheeks were pink, and his lips were rosy from all the kissing.

“I like to be taken care of,” he said.

Minseok knew this was definitely going to be his cause of death. Totally worth it.

“I’ll take such good care of you, baby boy.”

Jongdae’s breath hitched. And his cock twitched.

Minseok hoped that his death would at least wait until afterward.

He bent his head to kiss Jongdae slow and filthy. He tugged Jongdae’s shirt over his head and spent some time running his hands over Jongdae’s skinny torso, staring down at how wide Jongdae’s eyes were. He ran his fingers over one nipple, and, when Jongdae’s eyebrows jumped at the sensation, rolled that pebbled skin between his fingers. The way Jongdae bucked against him was delightful.

He stripped off his own shirt. People generally wanted to put their hands all over him when he took off his shirt, but it was particularly nice when that person was Jongdae.

“God damn, hyung,” he said in a gravelly voice. “How are you so stacked? How did I not know you had all this going on? Why are you so, like, dirty and commanding? I think I’m going to die, here.”

Minseok rotated his hips a couple of times by way of encouragement.

“I’m adaptable,” he said. “Mostly I just aim to please.”

Jongdae groaned. It was such an excellent sound that Minseok decided to put a pause on all this talking. If Jongdae wanted to be taken care of, then Minseok would take care of him.

First: kiss him, hold him close until he made little eager noises in the back of his throat. Next: run hands over his chest, wrap one hand around his egregiously small waist, map the freckles that dotted Jongdae’s neck and chest with his mouth.

“Hyung,” Jongdae sighed.

Then, slide Jongdae’s PJ pants down over his thighs and take him in hand, the firm heat of him, already wet at the tip. Swirl his thumb over that slick damp and watch the way Jongdae tipped his head back, his tongue tasting his own bottom lip.

Minseok wriggled out of his own pajama pants and pressed himself against the warm length of Jongdae’s body.

“How do you want me to take care of you?”

Jongdae blinked his eyes open. He stared up, then cupped his hands over Minseok’s jaw and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Please fuck me, hyung.”

“If you insist,” Minseok said, and laughed when Jongdae nipped his bottom lip.

He might’ve been weirded out by how passive and quiet Jongdae was, except for the way Jongdae watched him so closely while Minseok touched him, kissed his chest, and finally fetched out a condom and lube from the cabinet by his bed.

“You don’t have to, hyung, I’m clean, you can bareback me.”

Minseok rubbed slow circles on Jongdae’s hip.

“No,” he said. “If you want to be taken care of, I’m going to do it, and that means out of bed as well as in it. We’re going to have conversations, and I’m always going to ask you before we do anything new, and we’re both going to get tested again and show each other the paperwork so we know we can trust each other.”

For a second, Minseok quailed, because distress broke out on Jongdae’s face, then he tugged until Minseok leaned up to kiss him.

“I’m not innocent, hyung, you don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile,” Jongdae said.

Minseok stroked his cheek.

“I’m treating you like you’re important to me.”

How nice to be surrounded by all four limbs of a cute naked man.

“Hyung!” Jongdae yelled. “You’re gonna kill me with romance and we haven’t even fucked yet!”

“Sorry,” Minseok lied around his laugh. “I’ll try to keep my mouth too busy for talking.”

But even if he hadn’t known that Jongdae had a lot more, and more varied, experience than he did, Minseok would’ve wanted to take his time with Jongdae. For one thing, it had been a while – he suspected for both of them – and for another, Minseok felt as if he had wanted this for an age. He wanted to remember every minute.

So he moved slowly, carefully, teasing Jongdae with soft hands. He felt his own answering grin when Jongdae tipped his head back and gave a broad, dirty smile when Minseok finally got a finger in him.

“God, it’s been a long time,” Jongdae said. “Hyung. I’ve been thinking about this for _months_.”

Minseok kissed Jongdae’s hip to prevent saying anything that might start up the conversation again and put a pause to the excellent hot pressure around his index finger as he slid it back and forth. But he wasn’t sorry that the deeper they got into things, the more Jongdae talked: it was like the way he chattered when he got excited, except a lot breathier, with many drawn-out “hyung”s and, a couple of times, “please, please Minseok please,” which made Minseok want to flip Jongdae over and bury himself in Jongdae’s ass, mark up his neck with love bites, and never ever let him leave the bed.

The second time Jongdae begged, Minseok sat up and handed Jongdae the condom packet.

“Put this on me.”

Jongdae grinned at him, nodded. He made a show of it, with his wide eyes blinking slowly up, the way he tipped just a drop of lube into the tip. Minseok couldn’t help the low noise he made when Jongdae wrapped one hand around his dick and rolled the condom on with slow, wandering fingers. Then he hooked one arm behind his own knees and pulled them against his chest. His expression looked like a challenge: Minseok was more than happy to meet it.

He swore, ran his hands down the back of Jongdae’s thighs to grip his hips and slide in. Jongdae’s moan was low and long, and he reached down with his free hand to clutch at Minseok’s fingers.

“Stay still for just a second, hyung, I want to feel you.”

Minseok could stay. He wanted to move, surely, but he’d stay there as long as Jongdae wanted, staring down at his perfect face, his eyebrows quirked up in the middle, and the way he chewed his bottom lip. Even if Minseok did feel like he might perish when Jongdae started to wriggle against him.

“Can you?” Jongdae said eventually.

“Yes.”

He tried to start slow – he really did – but between it feeling so good and Jongdae looking like the world’s hottest angel under him, Minseok found himself snapping into Jongdae until they were both panting. He leaned in to tangle one hand in Jongdae’s hair, and Dae hooked his feet behind Minseok’s back.

“I’ve got it,” Jongdae gasped when Minseok tried to reach for his dick. “Just fuck me, hyung, faster.”

Faster he could do, if not quite so steadily when Jongdae writhed against him and cried out, and Minseok felt the pressure increase around his dick, so sweet and warm and slippery. But he tried to hold back until Jongdae was done. Then he wrapped his hand over Dae’s shoulder and went hard, staring down into Jongdae’s wide-eyed face, until his own pleasure made him tip his head back and grind deep while Jongdae wrapped his legs tighter and held Minseok close.

And wow, if he’d thought Jongdae was cute before, after-sex Jongdae, all tousled and smiley with pink cheeks, made Minseok want to burrow down under the blanket with him and promise to stay forever.

Instead, he got up.

“Hyung, no,” Jongdae complained.

“I’ll be right back.”

“No, I’ll miss you!”

Minseok laughed while he extricated himself from the octopus currently inhabiting his bed.

“Hang on,” he said. “And if you get come all over the sheets I’ll make you help me change them.”

Jongdae went perfectly still, hands by his sides. Minseok died a little.

He reminded himself, while he sponged himself off and disposed of the condom, that this was literally their first day, and they had gone from zero to ass-fucking in about 10 minutes, and nobody had made any kind of promises or agreements with anyone else, and therefore maybe he should cool it with the desire to jump in with all four limbs and set his heart wide open right away.

All of that good sense crumbled when he walked out of the bathroom and Jongdae turned his head to smile. The remaining tiny shreds of sense evaporated at the way Jongdae lay still and soft while Minseok wiped him clean with a damp, hot towel.

“Should I go?” Jongdae asked in a quiet voice.

Minseok was way past shoulds.

“I’d rather you stay,” he said. “As long as you’ll be comfortable.”

“I want to be where you are.”

Sure, Minseok sighed like a sap. He was a sap. He was also pretty dang thrilled to toss the towel into the bathroom and climb into bed next to Jongdae, pull the blankets over them, and hold him close.

It wasn’t a great night’s sleep: Minseok could sleep comfortably next to his friends, but Jongdae was new to him and restless besides. He woke once with a jerk and stared around wildly until his eyes focused on Minseok’s face.

“Sorry,” he said.

Minseok stroked Jongdae’s cheek.

“It’s okay, baby.”

Jongdae snuggled up close.

“Man, you took me seriously about the taking care thing.”

“I did,” Minseok said with his lips in Jongdae’s hair.

He felt in Jongdae’s restlessness that there was more to come.

“Is that how you like it, hyung? For me to let you be in charge?”

“I told you I’m adaptable,” Minseok said. “I want my partner to be as happy as I am.”

Jongdae leaned his head back and looked up, eyes shadowed in the dim light coming through the curtains.

“You’d let me fuck you, hyung?”

“Sure I would,” Minseok said. “That thick, pretty cock of yours? Why wouldn’t I?”

Jongdae’s laugh was almost as good coming out of the dark as it was when Minseok could see his face clearly.

“My last serious boyfriend would never let me top,” Minseok said.

He tried to let his tone stay light, but Jongdae’s hands clutched his biceps.

“Seriously? Min-hyung, you made it so good for me, why in the world?”

Minseok shrugged.

“He had a thing for me being small and cute. And by the time I figured out that that meant he didn’t like me working out or speaking up or my being the one who got his dick sucked for once, we were in too deep a groove to change.”

“Minseok,” Jongdae whispered.

“You’re not going to be that way to me.”

“Of course not, hyung.”

“So don’t worry about it.”

He slept, sort of, and woke in the morning clinging to the edge of the mattress with Jongdae sprawled over the rest of it. Minseok allowed himself to halfway hide his face in the crook of his own elbow and bite his bicep while he smoothed Jongdae’s hair off his forehead until Jongdae’s eyes reluctantly opened.

They stared at each other like drippy morons for several minutes. It was great.

“Where do we go from here, hyung?” Jongdae asked.

“To work,” Minseok said with a grin. “You’re lucky I wasn’t on toast duty today, or we’d have had to get up two hours ago.”

Jongdae groaned and smacked his arm, then rolled close and hugged him.

“Can we do it again first?”

Minseok laughed.

“Hell yes we can.”

Jongdae’s smile was wicked, Minseok wanted to look at it every second.

“Suck each other off or do it in the shower?”

Aaaaannnd, there he was, pretty much ready to go.

“Sheets are already dirty, may as well take advantage,” Minseok said, a little amazed that he sounded so blasé about it. “I’ll take a raincheck on that shower, though.”

“Yeah you will,” Jongdae said. “The shower at my place is a steam shower, it has a bench at just the right height to hang onto, and I haven’t been able to test it out yet.”

Now there was a pleasant mental image.

Sixty-nining it always made for terrible technique, but that only mattered until both people were sufficiently into it not to care. But honestly, if that’s the kind of blow job Jongdae gave while he was distracted, Minseok was going to die happily at some point in the near future. Jongdae laughed in the back of his throat and swallowed every drop of come, then clutched at Minseok’s hair and cried out when Minseok caught his breath and redoubled his efforts.

Then they got to shower together anyway, smashed up close in Minseok’s miniature stall, and even if it wasn’t sex, their hands sliding over one another and wet, sloppy kisses were an excellent way to prepare for the day.

Minseok traveled around the city for the next couple of days on a cloud of pure bliss. Dozens of gooey text messages were exchanged. Minseok’s transit card developed a case of acute fatigue from overuse as Minseok flew around, trying to spend every minute possible with Jongdae.

He knew he had decisions to make, and there were a hundred conversations they needed to have, but none of that could get done when there were months of kissing to catch up on and two whole apartments to defile by having sex on every available surface.

The bench in Jongdae’s shower was, in fact, the perfect height for several different varieties of activity. Standing in front of Jongdae, for example, with his dick in Jongdae’s mouth and Jongdae’s fingers in his ass. Worked out brilliantly.

“Hey what do I get to do when you go 48 hrs wo answering my txt”

Minseok stared at his phone and the many, many notifications from his friends that he had ignored in the past 5 days of glutting himself on Jongdae.

Guilt, his lifelong companion, settled into his chest.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he wrote.

And he picked up when the phone rang.

“You _are_ alive,” Baekhyun said. “Alive and happy or alive and moping?”

“Happy,” Minseok said.

“Then I guess we’ll let you live. But if you miss Wednesday dinner tonight, all bets are off. You gonna bring him?”

“I’ll ask,” Minseok said around a suddenly swirling gut.

Jongdae cringed over his lunch.

“Maybe not yet?” he said.

“Chenny,” Yixing said, “do you really think this cute hyung who brings us lunch every day is going to have asshole friends? You have to meet them sometime, you can’t just sit back and make secret Cat Farm updates to prove your affection.”

“What,” Minseok said.

Jongdae plunked his head down on the table.

“And on that note, I’m going up to the roof to see this ‘sun’ thing I’ve heard rumors about. Thanks for the lunch, toast-hyung!” Yixing said, cackling the whole way out.

Minseok prodded Jongdae repeatedly in the side of the head until his dumb boyfriend raised up his dumb head.

“Seriously?”

Upon examination, Minseok found that his level of surprise was negligible.

“Yeah,” Jongdae sighed.

He looked over and waved his hands around.

“It’s just that you’re very cute, hyung! And I didn’t think anybody actually played Cat Farm anymore! And then you were so excited when the update came out, and your voice gets all squeaky when you talk about the new cats, I’ve kind of been, uh. Constantly updating it every time I think up a new, terrible pun.”

This was awful. Here he was, nearly 30 years old, after years of working on himself to be more assertive and less of an accommodator (i.e., doormat), and he had to start dating a person so impossibly adorable that one could never tell him no.

“You’re going to make me fall in love with you, you asshole.”

Jongdae had a lot of different smiles, Minseok had learned. The broadest, most eye-crinkly one was pretty rare, and Minseok knew it only came out when Jongdae was really happy.

“I’m trying really hard, hyung, even if you won’t let me take you to Greece.”

“Argh, with its tiny pools.”

Jongdae laughed.

“And tinier swimsuits.”

“You’re terrible.”

So Jongdae didn’t go to that Wednesday dinner – which was just as well, since Minseok had to endure an entire evening of being fussed at and poked for ignoring their texts. And then Sehun wanted to know whether he’d signed up for a study course yet, which was a needed reminder to pull his head out of his boxer-briefs (or, more accurately, Jongdae’s boxer-briefs) and get going on his ambitions.

Then Minseok learned that he _could_ say no to Jongdae. He was looking over the chart he tried to make to figure out which study course to take for his entrance exams and what all the deadlines were to apply for school, on top of keeping enough work to pay his rent.

“This is almost as bad as when you were tutoring.”

“Yeah, I’m going to be on the bus for half my life again,” Minseok said.

“You ought to just move in with me.”

He was really only tempted for about half a minute. He hadn’t lived with anyone since undergrad, and they’d only spent the entire night together a few times so far. They probably needed to try a whole weekend together first.

“That seems a little precipitous,” he said.

And of course Jongdae’s feelings got hurt, and of course Minseok felt bad, but mostly, Minseok was proud of them for neither running away, and for talking through the whole thing until Jongdae accepted that Minseok wasn’t rejecting him and Minseok agreed that since Jongdae’s place was close to the toast truck's parking space and his academy, it made sense to keep a toothbrush and some pajamas there and stay over sometimes even on work nights, to see how things worked out.

Jongdae showed him the blackmail photos the night of that conversation, curled in Minseok’s lap with his head on Minseok’s shoulder and his fingers trembling a little as they scrolled through his phone.

“Why do you still have these?” Minseok asked.

They weren’t particularly explicit – Jongdae was obviously naked in them, but nothing more shocking than a shoulder or a hip showed, mostly. There were only a couple full-body ones, both from behind. What was most painful to see was how vulnerable he looked in them – tousled and used, his expression wide-eyed and a little frightened, fingers seemingly hesitant against the much larger, obviously male hand wrapped around his waist in one of them. Minseok couldn’t hold and protect the scared Jongdae in those pictures, so he held the sad one in front of him.

“To remind myself not to be dumb,” Jongdae said.

“I’ll do my damnedest to make sure you don’t need reminding,” Minseok said.

“I know, hyung.”

The next Wednesday, before they left for dinner, Minseok sent Baekhyun a text on private reading,

“I need you to be ON YOUR BEST BEHAVIOR, I fucking mean it, Baekhyun.”

“omg ending punctuation who died” Baek wrote back.

Parking on Chanyeol’s street was a trial, so they took the bus, much to Jongdae’s complaint, and Minseok got them to Chan’s apartment right on time, in the hope that they’d be the first to arrive and Jongdae could ease into the group.

A vain hope. Because of course this would be the one time everybody made an effort to get there early.

But maybe it was better that way anyhow, because it gave Baekhyun a minute to have a couple of minor strokes in the background before Jongdae’s round of greetings got to him.

“You fucking motherfucker,” Baekhyun choked when he and Minseok went to the corner store for more beer (an obvious ploy on Chanyeol’s part to separate him from Jongdae).

“I figured an ambush was the only way to keep you from teasing him about those photos.”

Baekhyun, to his credit, winced.

“It’s important, Baek,” Minseok said while he piled six-packs into Baekhyun’s arms. “All that stuff seriously, genuinely hurt him, and I need – I am asking you, as your best friend – for you to not do the same thing.”

“Got it,” Baekhyun said.

It had taken Minseok a long time to work out that Baekhyun would bulldoze right over soft limits, but if he knew where the hard limit was, he’d respect it. So Minseok put his worries aside.

He was not, however, surprised when Baekhyun set the bags down on the sidewalk halfway back to Chanyeol’s apartment.

“I just have to get one thing out of my system,” he said.

Minseok braced himself when Baek grabbed his shoulders.

“Dude, I can’t believe you’re tapping that hot little ass! Oh my god, seriously, hyung! And that fucking _mouth_ , please tell me he’s the best damn lay you’ve ever had.”

“He is,” Minseok said.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun said. “Oh my _god_.”

Then he shook himself like a dog, picked up the bags, and whistled.

“Okay, I’m done,” he said. “Let’s go do the meet-the-boyfriend thing like normal people now.”

Minseok, used to watching Jongdae carefully, saw the worry in his eyebrows when Baek said, several beers in,

“So you’re Chen, right? I’m not wrong about that?”

Minseok flinched and reminded himself that he had trusted Baekhyun for a lot of years.

“Oh,” Chanyeol said. “Not just an employee of the company that helped hyung out, but one of the main dudes!”

Which made Chanyeol have to hug Jongdae, which made Jongin have to hug Jongdae, which made Sehun have to pat his knee gingerly, which made Baekhyun lean back and stare at Minseok with a shit-eating grin.

And Minseok could see it, suddenly, in his head: how Jongdae’s small group would be drawn into this small group, with Yixing’s wicked teasing and Kyungsoo’s dry sense of humor. He reached over to clasp Jongdae’s hand and didn’t let Chanyeol’s coo drive away any of the warmth that flowed through him.

It went both ways, of course. Minseok dragged in from his study course a month later to find one of Jongin’s photos of himself hanging over Jongdae’s bed.

One of the large-format ones.

One of the nudes.

“Jongdae, what the hell.”

Jongdae waggled the Pepero in his mouth up and down.

“I’m accomplishing several different things here, hyung. A of all, supporting the arts. Second, making sure Nini has a boost of self-confidence right before his next show. Next, providing myself with something to jack off to that doesn’t feel like cheating on those nights when you cruelly abandon me for your smelly little apartment.”

“My apartment is not smelly.”

“And finally,” Jongdae said with a grin, “totally gonna hit you from behind while staring at a big-ass naked picture of you, because I figure I’ll come so hard I black out.”

“What are we supposed to do when I want to hit you from behind?”

“Well hyung, I’m not going to judge if you want to stare at yourself while you do it, because you’re stupid handsome. But if it bothers you, we’ve always got the shower bench, the sofa, and the kitchen counter to rely on.”

Minseok was too tired to argue.

Even if he weren’t too tired, he probably wouldn’t have argued anyway, because Jongdae was ridiculously adorable, even if he didn’t _quite_ black out later on.

They’d keep working on it.


End file.
